


The Secret Life of Daydreams

by hapakitsune



Category: Social Network (2010)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Regency, Historical Accuracy, M/M, Podfic Available
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-09-08
Updated: 2011-09-08
Packaged: 2017-10-23 13:18:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 42,140
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/250722
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hapakitsune/pseuds/hapakitsune
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When the wealthy Dustin Moskovitz arrives in Meryton with two companions in tow, he throws the quiet lives of Christopher Hughes and Eduardo Saverin into chaos. Christopher finds himself falling in love with the charming, affable Dustin while Eduardo and Mark never cease arguing long enough to realize that they may be a good match.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Secret Life of Daydreams

**Author's Note:**

> **Special Historical Note:** There are historical anachronisms up the wazoo, so imagine that this takes place in an alternate universe where same-sex marriages are nothing to be remarked on and race isn't really a consideration. Trying to take all of that into account would have rather defeated the purpose, and I'm aware of the inaccuracies. I have tried to be accurate in most other regards, but I am sure that there are many inaccuracies remaing. Please don't point them out to me because they won't be changed. On the other hand, if you note a typo, please do tell me that. Full notes [here](http://hapakitsune.livejournal.com/241495.html)

The news of Netherfield Park’s newest inhabitant came down to Christopher at a most inopportune time. He had been working on his history of Meryton for nearly a year, and he was nearly finished. Christopher had only the history of Netherfield to complete before he could send his work to London. He had intended on speaking to Netherfield’s caretaker, who Christopher knew would be most accommodating in allowing Christopher to use the library.

Eduardo Saverin, Christopher’s closest friend, arrived with the news just before noon. “Have you heard?” he asked eagerly. “Netherfield is to be let at last!”

Christopher looked up from his work and asked in tones of great misfortune, “Who is the purchaser?” If it had been let, he would have to speak to the new owner. He disliked speaking to most men of noble birth; they tended to hold his academic leanings in contempt.

“Christina tells me he is newly rich and from London,” said Eduardo. “His name is Moskovitz and they say he has eight thousand a year!”

“He is single, I presume?” asked Christopher dryly. “Or else Christina would not be spreading the news.”

“You should watch your tongue,” Eduardo said chidingly. “She is our dear friend and she must take her chances where she has opportunity.” He took the seat across from Christopher. “And he is to be at the ball tonight, or so Miss Delpy says.”

“Do you intend on making his acquaintance?” asked Christopher. “If he is as wealthy as that, he could restore your family’s fortune.”

“It would be presumptive of me to declare my intentions without meeting him first,” said Eduardo with great dignity. “Tell me you are not curious to meet such a man.”

“My curiosity has no relevance. But I must speak with him if he has taken up residence at Netherfield.” Christopher stood, dusting off his shirt. “I suppose I shall have to attend the ball tonight.”

“You should have attended in any case,” said Eduardo, “for you must accompany Christina and me. Out of us three, you are the most respectable.” He sounded suddenly quite melancholy

“That is a sad state of affairs indeed,” remarked Christopher with a great dose of irony. He succeeded in bringing a smile to Eduardo’s face, which had been his aim. “A gentleman scholar with no prospects? Surely you can find better escort than that.”

“You know I cannot,” Eduardo said, but he was laughing as he spoke, so Christopher did not press the point.

*  *  *

Christina Lee was a close childhood friend of both Christopher and Eduardo. They had remained close through numerous unfortunate events that had assailed each of them in turn, the most recent of which had resulted in her spending some time in hospital following a nervous attack. However, she was now as content and gregarious as she had ever been. She climbed into their coach with much rustling of skirts, her smile bright and eager.

“It is most exciting to finally have someone new in Meryton,” said Christina, settling into the seat across from them. “It is ever so dull around here with only the same people to gossip about.”

“You are incorrigible,” Eduardo told her fondly. “If I were any other man, I would have married you years ago for your sheer brazenness.”

“I am sorry you prefer men,” she said sadly. “But then I think you would make a poor husband to me.”

“Doubtless that is so,” agreed Eduardo amiably. “We are ill-suited to each other.”

“Well-suited as friends,” protested Christina. “Yet I feel you are too – romantic.”

“How can one possibly be too romantic?” asked Eduardo. “It is not as if I spout poetry when I walk.”

“You want someone who will make you love him beyond all others,” said Christina. “I bring out no passion in you, and you are a man of great passions.”

“Why, Christina,” said Christopher in mocking astonishment, “I never knew you to be such a fine speaker.”

Christina swatted him with her fan, laughing. “You are not as amusing as you believe yourself to be.”

“On the contrary, I think him very amusing indeed,” said Eduardo, laughing, and Christina spent the remainder of the voyage complaining about their lack of respect for her poetic phrases.

The hall at Netherfield was filled with revellers, all enjoying the music and the dancing. Christina quickly found a new conversation partner in the form of Marilyn Delpy, leaving Christopher and Eduardo to observe the festivities together. Christopher could see no one who he did not recognize; he had to surmise that the newcomers had not yet arrived.

“I suppose it must be very unfashionable for them to arrive on time,” remarked Eduardo hopefully.

“You seem very eager to meet them,” Christopher observed. “Is it simple curiosity or are you, like every eligible lady and gentleman here, hoping to find yourself an advantageous match?”

“Tell me when last we had newcomers in Meryton,” said Eduardo.

“It was two years ago, when Miss Delpy moved from Hammersmith,” Christopher answered promptly.

“Precisely. Two years since we have had a new face to see.” Eduardo smiled amiably and turned away. Christopher knew that he would not answer the question, even if he asked once more, so he too turned to observe the dancers. Eduardo never liked to speak about his romantic prospects, as his father had very fixed ideas about who Eduardo should marry.

Christopher knew instantly the moment that Moskovitz and his companions arrived. The hall fell completely silent, and the dancers parted like the Red Sea to let them pass. Christina and Marilyn hurried to Christopher’s side, trying to suppress their giggles.

“Which of them is the famous Mr Moskovitz?” Christopher asked them in a hushed voice.

Marilyn whispered, “That is him – the man in the middle.”

The young man identified as Moskovitz seemed amiable enough. His face was pleasant, and he smiled at all he passed, seeming to take great delight in the proceedings. Accompanying him were a man and a woman, both of a similar age. The woman was a great beauty and many of the men – and more than a few of the ladies – had taken notice of her elegant bearing and charming expression of interest. The other man might have been attractive were it not for the haughty and proud look he wore. He looked around at the town hall as though he found it wanting, his mouth twisted in a slight sneer.

“Who is the unhappy gentleman with him?” asked Eduardo in tones of great interest as the small party proceeded to the back of the hall. Slowly the music started up again, the dancers following a little behind, and the hall filled with noise once more.

“I am told that his name is Zuckerberg, and he is a dear friend of Mr Moskovitz,” Christina said in a hushed whisper. “And he has _fifteen thousand_ a year!”

“Fifteen thousand?” scoffed Christopher. “Someone has been telling you stories. How can he possibly be that wealthy?”

“It is no story,” Christina protested. “It is the truth! He came into a great deal of money in addition to being an academic of some sort. The woman is called Erica, and she is some distant relation of Moskovitz.”

“She is very beautiful,” observed Eduardo. “Perhaps the gossips were incorrect in saying Mr Moskovitz is unattached.”

“No, she is not engaged to either,” said Marilyn from Christina’s other side. “But she is exceptionally kind. I met them early this morning and she was the most gracious lady I have ever met. I think you would like her.”

“Will you introduce us?” asked Christina hopefully. “I find myself overcome by curiosity. I simply must meet them.”

“Certainly,” agreed Marilyn. “Come, I know Dustin is greatly interested in meeting people. He will be glad to make your acquaintance.” She led them over to where the newcomers had sequestered themselves along the back wall. The woman called Erica straightened and smiled with good humour when she saw Marilyn.

“Marilyn, my dear,” she said fondly. “Thank you for insisting that we attend this lovely ball. It is so charming!”

“I am very glad you came,” said Marilyn. “And may I present three of my dear friends? The gentlemen are Christopher Hughes and Eduardo Saverin. The lovely lady is Christina Lee.”

“It is a great delight to make your acquaintance,” Erica said, and she dipped into a perfect curtsey. Christina returned the gesture. Christopher and Eduardo both bowed politely as Erica said, “This is my cousin, Dustin Moskovitz and his dear friend Mark Zuckerberg.” Moskovitz beamed while Zuckerberg restrained himself to a brief, curt nod.

After some pleasant conversation about the weather and the people attending the party, Marilyn excused herself with an apologetic smile. Erica and Christina engaged themselves in conversation on fashions in London while Eduardo and Zuckerberg looked on.

Moskovitz had fixed his gaze upon Christopher from the moment they had approached and had not looked away once. Christopher grew distinctly uncomfortable, wondering if he had unknowingly offended the man. Despite this worry, he knew he had to ask about Netherfield’s library, so he said in a soft voice, “I apologize for my forwardness, but I must request a private word with you, Mr Moskovitz.”

Moskovitz held out his hand with a smile. “I insist that you call me Dustin, Mr Hughes. Let us take a turn around the dance floor so that you may speak at your leisure.”

“It is a simple question,” Christopher began nervously. Christina stepped on his foot. He barely managed to restrain a cry of pain. “I suppose that would be agreeable,” he said, casting a glare at the interfering woman.

“Excellent,” Dustin said in great delight. “May I call you Christopher? I must confess that I am not accustomed to this habit of referring to friends by their family names. I have never been over formal.”

“Christopher is acceptable,” Christopher allowed, and he took Dustin’s arm. He cast a glance back at Eduardo, but saw that Eduardo had engaged Zuckerberg in conversation. He knew from long experience that Christina would be fine on her own, so he allowed Dustin to lead him to the dance floor.

They began the first dance, which did not give them much time to speak, but the orchestra soon shifted to a waltz. Dustin took Christopher’s hand and said in a low, intimate tone, “You may ask your question.”

Christopher felt unaccountably flustered by Dustin’s unexpected kindness and it took him a moment to find his voice. “I have been writing a history of Meryton for the better part of a year and I have yet to write the history of Netherfield. I had intended to speak with the caretaker, but as you have taken up residence, I must ask your permission to interview your staff and beg the use of your library.”

“You are a historian?” Dustin asked with great interest. “I should have known you would be an academic. You have the looks of a man of great intelligence.”

Christopher felt his face grow hot with embarrassment and he found he could not look Dustin in the eye. “You are too kind.”

“Not at all.” Dustin pulled Christopher a trifle closer than propriety dictated, his hand splayed wide on Chris’s lower back. “I would be happy to host you at Netherfield for as long as you need. The library and my staff are at your disposal.”

“You have my thanks,” said Christopher gratefully. “I had feared that I had lost my opportunity to chronicle Netherfield’s history. Not all men would be so accommodating as you.”

“Once we have settled, I will send a proper invitation,” promised Dustin. “I do not read as much as I ought, and I am afraid Netherfield’s library will be wasted on me. I am sure you will derive more pleasure from its volumes than I.”

Christopher could not find a suitably polite deflection, so instead he smiled rather insipidly. Dustin did not seem to find it at all unusual, and bent his head in towards Christopher.

“Have you always lived in Meryton?” he asked with great interest. “I think it a lovely town, but I find that many people lose their appreciation for home. Familiarity breeds contempt and all that.”

“I studied at Cambridge when I was a younger man,” said Christopher, “but I returned to Meryton after the death of my father. I was the only child, so I inherited his home.”

“My sympathies,” said Dustin earnestly. “It is no easy thing, losing a parent.”

“It was four years ago,” Christopher said lightly, though it panged his heart to remember the funeral. “I have had time to recover from my grief.”

“Even so,” said Dustin; he sounded utterly sincere. He squeezed Christopher’s hand and Christopher felt himself flush again. He ducked his head and allowed Dustin to guide him around the dance floor, acutely aware of every point where their bodies made contact.

“What has brought you to Meryton?” asked Christopher once he had finally mastered his urge to blush like a girl at her first cotillion. “I would think the country could hold few temptations for someone raised in London.”

“I am finding that the country has more attractions than I had thought,” Dustin said with a smile, to Christopher’s great embarrassment. “In all truth? I was born in Devon, though I spent most of my youth in Brighton. London is something of a recent event.”

“Do you enjoy London?” asked Christopher curiously. “I personally find it very tiring.”

“It is enjoyable,” allowed Dustin, “but as you say, it does wear on a person. I thought it would be lovely to have a place to escape to, and Netherfield is such a beautiful estate. It is quite restful here.”

“I have always thought so,” Christopher agreed. “But then, I have lived nearly all my life in the country, so I am afraid I am somewhat biased.”

“You are a quiet man, at heart,” observed Dustin. “May I ask what your history of Meryton entails?”

Christopher obliged him by supplying a rough outline of what he had written thus far. “I suppose,” he concluded, “it is not the most interesting, but I have endeavoured to learn the stories of the men and women who have lived and worked in Meryton. They deserve to be remembered as much as Nelson or Wellington.”

Dustin seemed thoroughly fascinated by Christopher’s words, which was somewhat gratifying. “I would love to read it, once you are finished,” he said, with no trace of deception in his voice. “I have always found histories dull because they seem incurably obsessed with political dealings. It is the common people who are truly fascinating.”

“Exactly!” Christopher exclaimed, hardly able to help his pleasure at finding someone in agreement with himself. “Do you know, there is a book you may be interested in –” and he began listing histories he had delighted in while at university. To his pleasure, Dustin had heard of more than half and had even read a few, so they found themselves with much to speak of during the remainder of that dance and the entirety of the next.

*  *  *

Christina soon took her leave of the small group, her gaze fixed upon the militia’s bright uniforms. Eduardo remained behind, caught up in a discussion of _Ivanhoe_ with Erica. Zuckerberg seemed to have little interest in their conversation, but as soon as there was a pause, he spoke.

"Eduardo Saverin," said Zuckerberg, a questioning note to his voice. Eduardo turned to face him, smiling as amiably as he knew how. "I suppose you are the son of Lord Saverin? He is a very – enterprising gentleman, with…discerning taste."

Eduardo's careful smile slipped, and it took him a moment to regain his composure. "I do indeed hold that distinction," he agreed as amiably as he could. "Are you acquainted with my father?"

"I have met him," Zuckerberg said with a terse nod. “It is always gratifying to find that your suspicions about someone are confirmed.” He turned to Erica, effectively ending the conversation. Eduardo stood there, completely at a loss. After a moment, he strode away, trying not to take Zuckerberg’s slight personally. As he walked along the borders of the dance floor, he saw that Christopher had been coerced into dancing by Moskovitz. Christopher looked unusually happy as he and Moskovitz waltzed around the room, and Eduardo could not bear to interrupt him. Instead, he located Christina, who was flirting outrageously with a pair of soldiers, and touched her arm gently.

“My dear, what on earth is the matter?” asked Christina in worry. She nodded gaily to the soldiers and stepped away with Eduardo. “You look positively miserable.”

“I wish only that my father’s reputation would not follow me even out to the countryside,” sighed Eduardo with frustration. “It is no wonder Mr Zuckerberg decided I was not worth his time. He must think I am as much of a shameless social climber as my father.” He outlined the conversation for Christina’s benefits and was gratified by her indignant gasp.

“He is an idiot,” announced Christina with great finality. “You are, without a doubt, one of the best and finest men of my acquaintance and if Mr Zuckerberg cannot see that, then he is not worth your time. Your father may be desperate to reclaim your family's former status, but I think your reputation as a fine gentleman is restoring the Saverin name regardless of his efforts.”

“You have a wicked tongue,” Eduardo remarked wryly. “It will get you into trouble one of these days.”

“But not today,” she said. She tugged him towards the dance floor and asked in an undertone, “Have you noted how Mr Moskovitz has not let Christopher out of his sight? I think Christopher has finally stumbled upon a man who finds his bookish nature charming rather than off-putting.”

She was not the only one to have noticed Moskovitz’s regard; many of the young ladies were eyeing Christopher with poorly concealed envy. Christopher seemed not to notice, his gaze was as fixed on Moskovitz as Moskovitz’s was on him.

“You are ever the optimist.” Eduardo offered Christina his hand. “Would you do me the honour of a dance?”

“The honour would be mine, my dear,” said she, and they took to the floor. Eduardo refused to look to see if Mr Zuckerberg happened to be looking their way. Christina was a fine dancer and they were the very picture of elegance and grace as they passed around the floor. He could take pleasure in that.

After one dance, Eduardo excused himself to allow Christina to accept the invitation of a handsome soldier. Eduardo drifted to the side of the hall, watching the dancers whirl around the floor. Christopher soon joined him, pink-cheeked and breathless with exertion. Eduardo smiled, delighted to see the rare look of joy on Christopher's face. His eyes bright with excitement as he said, "I have never danced so much in my life!”

“Mr Moskovitz seems quite taken with you,” observed Eduardo with the utmost of innocence. To his great delight, Christopher became quite flustered at this.

“He is very kind,” Christopher said, blushing. “I cannot imagine what he would find interesting about me.”

“You are too modest at times,” Eduardo sighed. “Christopher, you are in many ways a most eligible man. He would have to be a fool not to see your charms.”

Christopher flushed deeper still, but he was smiling as he said, “Eduardo, if you are not careful, I might take that as a sign of interest.”

“You must take your compliments where you find them,” Eduardo said primly. “Do you like him?”

Christopher looked away as he said, “We have only just met, Eduardo.”

“And yet it is clear to me that he likes _you_ ,” Eduardo said. “Do you like him?”

“I do,” Christopher admitted in a quiet voice. “He is a perfect gentleman. But it is irrelevant, Eduardo. He should marry a lady or gentleman of stature, not a scholar from the country.”

“He should marry whomever he pleases,” Eduardo said sharply. “Don’t be so eager to dismiss your qualities.”

“You are an incurable romantic,” Christopher said accusingly, which Eduardo could not dispute. “You are only setting yourself up for disappointment. You know you will likely have to marry a man for whom you have no feelings. Is your father not seeking an engagement with one of the Winklevosses?”

“I would prefer we do not speak on that,” Eduardo said, a cold finger of fear snaking down his back. He had no objections to either of the brothers; they were undeniably handsome and well-connected, but he had no romantic feelings towards them. He knew that he would undoubtedly be expected to marry _one_ of them, as their families were close friends. However, that was the future and he thought of it as little as possible.

When it came time for them to return home, they collected Christina from her partner and turned to leave the hall. Moskovitz caught up with them and said, “Christopher, I shall send you a letter regarding use of the library. Is that – acceptable?”

“Yes. And thank you,” Christopher said, extending his hand. Eduardo watched in great amusement as Moskovitz took Christopher’s hand and, in lieu of shaking it, kissed Christopher’s knuckles. Christopher turned bright red and hastily bid Moskovitz farewell.

“It was a great pleasure meeting you,” Eduardo told Moskovitz with an incline of his head. Beside him, Christina dropped into a low curtsey and murmured something that had Moskovitz laughing.

“I hope to see you both again,” Moskovitz said wistfully. “Perhaps we may all have dinner some time.”

“I am sure Christopher would enjoy that,” Christina said slyly. Eduardo had to muffle his laughter at the lovestruck look in Moskovitz’s eyes. Moskovitz blushed as he stammered out his farewell, his gaze straying to the door Christopher had exited through.

“What did you say to him?” hissed Christopher when Eduardo and Christina rejoined him outside. “Did you repeat anything I said?”

“Don’t be absurd,” snorted Christina. “We would never do such a thing.” She winked at Eduardo and climbed into their coach without asking for assistance.

*  *  *

The promised letter arrived three days after the ball. Christina happened to be visiting, as she had little else to do, and she insisted that her reputation could take no further damage from associating with Eduardo and Christopher. She arrived at the same time as the messenger, so she brought the letter in herself, waving it at them enthusiastically.

“A letter from Netherfield,” she said, thrusting it into Christopher’s hand. “Isn’t this exciting?”

Christopher took it and opened the envelope with unsteady fingers. “It is from Dustin himself,” Christopher said, spotting the signature at the bottom.

Christina sat on the sofa, arranging her skirts around her legs. “What does it say?”

Christopher scanned the letter, his eyes wide. “He has followed through on his promise,” he said. “He has invited me to Netherfield so that I may use the library. I may come at my own convenience.”

“An open invitation!” cried Christina in amazement. “That is wonderful news! You must go immediately, Christopher, don’t waste another moment.”

“I don’t wish to seem overeager,” said Christopher, though he could not help the pull of longing he felt at the memory of Dustin’s hand in his. “That would give a very poor impression.”

“Don’t be absurd. It is clear that Mr Moskovitz already admires you greatly, as well he should.” Christina pointed imperiously towards the door. “Go, Christopher! Take your horse and go!”

“You cannot go,” protested Eduardo. He gestured to the grey clouds looming in the distance. “It is bound to pour. You will catch cold if you ride out now.”

“You must go now,” insisted Christina. “It is your one chance to innocently secure a longer stay at Netherfield. If you catch cold, I am sure Mr Moskovitz will demand that you stay until you are well again.”

“You cannot possibly know that,” said Eduardo. Christopher grew impatient and took his coat from its hook on the wall.

“If I listen to your arguments, I shall die of old age before I ever manage to finish this history,” he announced. “I shall ride to Netherfield and end this before it gets out of hand.”

The rain began to pour down in sheets once Christopher had ridden halfway there. By the time he arrived at Netherfield, he was soaked to the bone and shivering hard. Dustin stared at him in shock when he came to the door and said, “Good Lord, you rode here in this? It is pouring more hideously than I ever seen in my life!”

“I did not realize the weather would be so dreadful,” Christopher responded with all honesty. “I thought I would arrive here unscathed.”

“Well, you must change or you will catch cold,” insisted Dustin. “I will provide you the use of a room and dry clothing.”

“Oh, you mustn’t –” began Christopher, but Dustin had already called a servant, who bundled Christopher upstairs into a large spare room. She gave Dustin a pile of clothing and left the room, giving Christopher a small curtsey and a shy smile as she did so.

Christopher felt very odd wearing clothing that he was sure belonged to Dustin, given that the trousers were several inches too short for Christopher’s longer legs. He dusted off his borrowed clothing and looked at his reflection in the well-framed mirror on the wall. He supposed he looked fine enough, and the blue of the waistcoat was close in colour to his eyes.

He took the long staircase down to the ground floor and found Dustin waiting for him in the entrance hall. Dustin smiled and said, “That colour suits you very well.”

Christopher touched his hair self-consciously and admitted, “I am afraid that I still look a mess.”

“Don’t be foolish, Christopher, you cannot be so blind as you pretend,” said Dustin. “All I ever hear is that you are the handsomest, most accomplished man in all of Hertfordshire.”

Christopher blushed. “You flatter me.”

“I assure you, I do not.” Dustin offered a hand. “Let me show you to the library. I am sure you will find it most agreeable. I must confess that I am not, perhaps, the best person to show you the volumes you need, but I find myself disinclined to allow you out of my sight.”

Christopher had no words to say in response to that; he had never been the object of such blatant and fervent regard in his life. He found Dustin to be most agreeable and attractive, but he had no notion of the correct way to return the attentions he received. Instead of attempting a reply, he took Dustin’s arm and allowed himself to be led to the library.

The library was as vast and as beautiful as he had heard. Christopher looked around in awe at the shelves, which stretched up to the high ceiling, and released his grip on Dustin’s arm to step further in to the room.

“Were I to be in the possession of such a place, I should never leave,” he breathed. “There is more here than I could ever hope to read in my lifetime.”

“You are welcome to its riches,” said Dustin. “You say you are particularly interested in history? There are a great many volumes on Meryton as well as Netherfield itself.” He led Christopher to one shelf and presented its books to him with an elaborate wave of his hand.

“This is a great treasure, Dustin,” Christopher told him earnestly. “I must thank you most ardently for your indulgence.”

“It is my pleasure, Christopher,” Dustin said. He laid a hand on Christopher’s shoulder for a brief, fleeting instant, then he retreated to one of the libraries sofas with one of Miss Radcliffe’s latest works in his hands.

Christopher created a pile of books that he then ferried to the writing desk against the wall. He quickly lost himself in reading, only pausing occasionally to make note of some particularly interesting fact. As the grey light coming through the windows darkened, Christopher grew aware that he felt hot and shivery. He coughed and pressed a tired hand to his overheated forehead. He got to his feet, but felt instantly weak and found himself wavering. He caught himself on the edge of the desk, knocking some of the books off with a clatter.

“Good God, Christopher,” said Dustin from his seat. “What on earth – are you feeling all right?”

“I think I may have caught a cold,” Christopher said faintly. His head felt very light. “I don’t –” he began and then his vision went grey.

*  *  *

Christopher awoke on the sofa in the drawing room, his nose full of the stink of smelling salts. Dustin and Erica gazed down at him, concern clear in their expressions.

“Miss Albright!” Christopher said, startled, and he struggled to sit upright.

“Honestly,” said Erica with a trace of unladylike annoyance in her voice as she pocketed the small vial of salts. “Mr Hughes, do not try to get up. You have a dreadful fever.”

“I wish you had told me you were feeling unwell,” said Dustin anxiously. “I cannot in good conscience allow you to return home while your health is so poor. You must stay here and recuperate.”

“Oh, you mustn’t do that,” protested Christopher. “I am perfectly capable of returning home.” He undermined his own argument by sneezing several times in succession. Erica laid a gentle, soothing hand upon his back.

“Mr Hughes, I assure you that it is no trouble at all,” Erica told him. “I suspect our servants would be delighted to have someone to wait on. I am afraid that my cousin and Mr Zuckerberg are very independent men.”

“We are not accustomed to this life of leisure,” Dustin said in a slightly defensive tone. “It is difficult to remember, sometimes.”

“Of course,” Erica said dryly. She patted Christopher’s back again and said, “You shall have the empty bedroom on the second floor. It is no trouble at all to put you up, Mr Hughes, that I promise you.”

“I should hate to inconvenience you,” said Christopher miserably. He was aware that his voice sounded thin and weak, but he felt so guilty. He should have listened to Eduardo, who was as a matter of course much more sensible than Christina.

“It is more important that you become well,” Dustin says firmly. He offered Christopher his arm. “Come, you must get your rest.”

Christopher allowed Dustin to escort him upstairs and leaned more heavily on him than was perhaps necessary. They passed Zuckerberg in the corridor; the scowling gentleman observed them without a word, but Christopher thought he could feel Zuckerberg’s stare on his back until Dustin opened the door to a bedroom.

“I hope you will be comfortable here,” Dustin said anxiously. “I will send someone in to help you and I will have the cook make you soup.”

“You are too kind,” Christopher said, sinking down onto the bed gratefully. He began to unbutton the waistcoat, forgetting that Dustin was still standing there. Dustin made a small noise, and Christopher looked up, startled. He hurriedly clutched the fabric close to his chest, flushing with embarrassment.

“I will – leave,” Dustin stuttered out, and he hurried from the room as though he were being chased. Christopher finished unbuttoning the coat and stripped down to his underclothes; then he slid beneath the fine, soft sheets of the bed and closed his eyes. Sleep claimed him instantly.

He awoke at a light touch on his shoulder. He squinted and saw Dustin sitting on the edge of the bed. Behind him was the serving woman he had met before. She was holding a tray, which she set down on the bed table. Christopher inhaled the rich smell of soup and his stomach reminded him that he hadn’t eaten since breakfast.

“Eat,” Dustin said firmly, gesturing towards the tray. “I will sit here until you are finished.”

“You are most persistent,” Christopher murmured, trying a smile. He accepted the bowl and began to eat as neatly as he could. He ignored the way Dustin stared at him, focusing instead on the delicious meal.

“There,” Dustin said with satisfaction when Chris had finished. “You will be feeling better soon, I wager.”

“That is my most devout wish,” Chris said, and he sneezed wetly.

Dustin dropped his hand onto Chris’s shoulder for the briefest of instants before he took his leave. Chris reclined against the pillows and let out a sigh. Christina’s predictions of illness had been all too correct – he would have to compliment her on her foresight.

There was a soft cough from the door. Christopher looked over and saw Zuckerberg standing in the door frame, his hands behind his back. He stood there for a long moment before he finally said, “I find myself in a strange position.”

“How so?” asked Christopher wearily.

“Dustin is a very old friend,” said Zuckerberg. “He is an amiable gentleman as a general rule; but I have never seen him smile quite so much as when he is with you.”

Christopher could not help his smile in response to that news. “He is a fine man,” he said in a quiet voice. “Whoever captures his heart will be fortunate indeed.”

Zuckerberg tilted his head to the side and looked at Christopher curiously. “Are you being deliberately obtuse?”

“Not at all,” said Christopher, trying very hard not to be offended. “Are you saying that Mr Moskovitz cares for me?”

“I am sure he has asked you to call him by his Christian name,” said Zuckerberg, “and surely you are not blind to his affection. Do you return his regard?”

For a moment, Christopher was stunned by the man’s sheer brazenness. “While I respect your friendship with Dustin, I must remind you that you have no business asking after my romances,” he said stiffly and with as much dignity as he could muster. “I would thank you for letting me rest now, Mr Zuckerberg.”

Zuckerberg stared at him for a moment longer before nodding curtly. “Sleep well, Mr Hughes,” he said and he closed the door as he left.

*  *  *

When Christopher had not reappeared by the end of the evening, Eduardo began to worry. “What if something terrible has happened to him?” he asked Christina, who seemed not to share his anxiety. She sat fanning herself absently as she read a letter from her cousin. “He could be injured or dreadfully ill –”

“Or he could be with Mr Moskovitz, in which case I am disinclined to rescue him.” Christina snapped her fan shut. “I am sure that if he is at Moskovitz’s, we will receive a letter tomorrow. If we hear nothing, then we may worry.”

Eduardo sighed heavily. “You are right,” he conceded. “I will escort you home. If I hear any news, I will endeavour to let you know immediately.”

“I appreciate that, my dear,” she said, and she took his arm as they proceeded out of Christopher’s home.

A letter did indeed arrive the following morning. Eduardo accepted the note from the messenger and read it over quickly before leaving his house and riding to Christina’s family residence. Christina was attempting to sew in the parlour when he entered, her mouth pursed with concentration.

“I received a letter,” he announced, startling her. She pricked herself with the needle and said a very unladylike curse. He ignored that and added, “From Christopher.”

Christina sucked on her finger for a moment, scowling, then said, “Well? Give it here so that I may read its contents for myself.”

“I hope you are satisfied,” said Eduardo, giving the letter to Christina. “He is dreadfully sick and will be staying at Netherfield until he is better.”

Christina shushed him impatiently and read the letter quickly. “I am indeed in raptures,” said Christina after she had finished. “I do not see how this is anything other than a great opportunity. It is plain to anyone with eyes that Mr Moskovitz is infatuated with Christopher. If he is to be at Netherfield for some time, then we have an excellent opportunity to visit and see the great place ourselves.”

“You are an incorrigible busybody,” Eduardo accused. “How is Christopher to secure an advantageous match with us breathing down his neck?”

“That is the _only_ way he will find such a match,” she said firmly. “He is much too shy and reserved. It would be easy to misinterpret that as indifference, though it is clear to you and I that he is anything but indifferent to Mr Moskovitz. Not everyone knows him as we do.”

“We cannot simply thrust ourselves upon them,” protested Eduardo. “It would be the height of rudeness.”

“Not at all,” contradicted Christina smugly. “As you ought to know, having read the same letter as I, Mr Moskovitz has extended an offer to let us visit – and I quote – ‘the most charming Mr Hughes’ while he is indisposed. We may visit whenever we like.” She rose to her feet, fussily straightening her skirts. “I must change so as to be properly presentable. You may wish to exchange that jacket; it is a season out of fashion.”

She swept out of the room with the air of a duchess, and Eduardo hurried back to his own home to exchange his old blue jacket for a newer black one. He did not think that it would make much difference – Moskovitz seemed easily pleased, and Zuckerberg seemed as though he would be pleased by nothing at all. But he straightened his lapels and smoothed his hair so as to be presentable, and he took the carriage to gather Christina.

Both Miss Albright and Mr Moskovitz greeted them with the utmost delight while Mr Zuckerberg stood sullenly in the corner. Christina dropped into a polite curtsey, perfectly correct in every respect.

“It is ever so good to see you again,” she said warmly. “I do hope we are not intruding.”

“Nonsense,” said Miss Albright with an airy wave of her hand. “Dustin invited you to visit. I dearly wish to be friends with you, Miss Lee.”

“Then it is Christina,” Christina said, smiling and Miss Albright insisted that they call her Erica. There was much to-do as they hurried to grant each other permission to use their Christian names. By the end of the introductions, Eduardo’s head was spinning from the constant apologies and polite demurrals and Zuckerberg still had not said a word.

“Would you like to see Christopher?” Dustin asked Eduardo and Christina. “He has been asleep most of the day, but he may be able to summon up the energy to speak with his two closest friends.”

“That would be wonderful,” Eduardo said before Christina could get a word in edgewise. “I am sure you are taking excellent care of him, but –”

“Of course,” Dustin cut in, waving his hand dismissively. “I understand. I shall bring you to him; he is upstairs.”

Christina and Eduardo exchanged glances before following Dustin up the great staircase to the upper level. Eduardo could not help but admire the beauty of the building; his own family’s estate had fallen into some disrepair over the years. Christopher was lying in bed with a large tome in his hands. He set it aside when the door opened, and he smiled brightly, though his eyes were watery and his nose was red.

“Eduardo, Christina,” he said in a hoarse, rough voice. “I didn’t know you were visiting.”

“Dustin sent us an invitation,” Christina explained, sitting down on the edge of his bed and taking his hand. “We were happy to come.”

Dustin excused himself quietly and shut the door behind him. Eduardo sat in the chair near the bed and smiled at Christopher. “He is a kind man,” Eduardo remarked knowingly.

Christopher was slightly pink, though Eduardo could not tell if it was due to the fever or to embarrassment. “He has been most accommodating,” he said. “And he persists in complimenting me. It is the height of strangeness. I do not know how to respond.”

“You must make it clear to him that you are interested,” Christina said sharply, poking his shoulder. “Otherwise how will he know? You are so reserved that he may think you do not care for him.”

“I hardly know him,” Christopher said, but he did not sound convinced.

“We shall take his measure for you,” Eduardo suggested. “I am sure we can secure an invitation for dinner.”

“Oh, certainly,” Christina said with an airy wave of her hand. “It would utter simplicity.” She smiled at Christopher. “And I hope you feel better in the morning.”

“Thank you,” Christopher said. He sniffled and rolled onto his side so as to see them better. “I hope Mr Zuckerberg is polite to you. Do you know, he asked me what I wanted with Dustin? I had no idea what to say to him. “

“You need not say anything at all,” Eduardo said, affronted on Christopher’s behalf. “How incredibly rude of him! He has no right to ask that of you. It is the very height of arrogance to assume that you would answer him.”

“It is no less than what you would do for me,” Christopher pointed out. “You would ask Dustin, would you not?”

“There is no need to ask him anything,” said Christina. “It is _quite_ obvious what he wants from you.”

Christina laughed while Christopher turned a darker shade of pink. “Christina,” he said reprovingly. “That is most inappropriate.”

"But true," Christina replied gaily. She patted his hand reassuringly. "You at least have no reason to doubt his affection, which is a piece of rare fortune."

"You are raising your hopes," Eduardo reminded Christina. "I do not believe Dustin has made any clear statement of intent." He looked at Christopher questioningly.

"Of course not!" Christopher answered, clearly startled. "We hardly know each other." He began to cough again, which Eduardo took as his cue to usher Christina from the room.

Before he followed her out, he squeezed Christopher's shoulder briefly and said, "Rest well."

"Thank you," Christopher said damply, and he blew his nose.

Erica invited them into the parlour when they returned downstairs, leaving Christopher to rest. “Come, sit with us,” she said, gesturing for them to follow her. “Ignore Mark, he is writing a letter to his sisters.”

“You have sisters, Mr Zuckerberg?” Eduardo asked, just to be polite. Zuckerberg was sitting at a writing desk, his back to the rest of the room. He did not look up at Eduardo’s words.

“Three,” he said shortly. “The eldest is engaged to be wed, but the younger two are only just out in society.”

“They are the most charming girls you could hope to meet,” said Dustin, who was sitting on the sofa. “The youngest is the most accomplished piano player I have ever heard.”

“How fortunate to have such a large family,” Eduardo remarked wistfully. He had often wished he had a sibling to whom he could deflect his father’s attentions.

"To some, it may seem fortunate," Zuckerberg said without inflection. "To me, it is little more than simple fact."

Eduardo blinked, surprised by the strangeness of Zuckerberg's reply. Dustin let out a strange sound and Eduardo glanced over. He realized instantly that Dustin had stifled his laughter, for his face was flushed and he was biting his lip.

"Oh, Mark," sighed Erica dramatically. "You will frighten all our new friends away."

"I have no need of friends," Mark said coolly. "I am perfectly content the way I am."

"You may desire constant solitude, Mark, but _we_ prefer to have companionship." Erica stood and held out her hand. “Christina,” she said in a falsely imperious tone. “Let us take a turn about the room. We have much to discuss and I find I grow tired of the men’s prattle.”

“Your words cut me to the quick, madam,” Dustin said, clutching a hand to his chest. Erica arched her eyebrows at him, eliciting surprised laughter from Eduardo.

“I am eager to have a female friend in whom I can confide,” admitted Christina, and she rose to her feet. She slipped her arm through Erica’s and the two of them walked around the room with their heads bent together in close conference.

“Eduardo,” said Dustin, turning to look at him. “Christopher has told me that you are greatly interested in mathematics. He says you keep the books of nearly every shop in Meryton as a hobby.”

At this, Zuckerberg turned around and looked squarely at Eduardo, his gaze sharp and piercing. Eduardo shivered and looked back at Dustin, though he could still sense the weight of Zuckerberg’s gaze on his skin.

“Christopher exaggerates,” said Eduardo, embarrassed by the attention that Zuckerberg and Dustin were now paying him. “I am not a great academic like he is.”

“Mark is greatly interested in mathematics as well,” said Dustin, smiling. “I am sure you will have much to speak of together.”

“I should much doubt it,” murmured Eduardo, looking down.

“You like mathematics?” asked Zuckerberg in a tone of surprise.

Eduardo could not help but bristle at the implication in Zuckerberg’s voice. “Yes. Why, sir? Do you think me uneducated?”

“Not at all,” Zuckerberg said stiffly, setting his quill down. “However, it is rare to find a gentleman of such – _distinguished_ birth who will own to such a pleasure.”

“Now, Mark,” said Dustin, “you must not hold a man’s family against him. You forget, you are now a gentleman of sorts.”

“I have never been considered a gentleman,” said Zuckerberg.

“I am not surprised by that,” said Eduardo without thinking over his words.

Zuckerberg’s mouth pressed into a tight line and he hunched his shoulders slightly. Eduardo waited for him to say something, but Zuckerberg just stared at him as if he had never seen him before.

Dustin laughed, long and bright. “By God, he has your measure,” he told Zuckerberg with great delight. “He has read you like a book.”

Zuckerberg turned away from them without a word. Erica, who had been eavesdropping without the slightest trace of shame, said, “Bravo, Mr Saverin. I have never seen Mark so thoroughly silenced. You should visit often to relieve my aching ears.”

“You are a cruel woman, Erica Albright,” Dustin informed her. “At this rate, we shall have to find a new friend to associate with. Mark will want nothing more to do with us.”

Erica cast Mark a fond look. “Well, perhaps we may make new friends anyway – I have been thinking that the ball we attended was such great fun that we should host one here.”

“Oh, you must!” exclaimed Christina with more enthusiasm than was strictly proper. “You have such a beautiful estate; it seems a shame not to share it.”

“Balls are a tremendously foolish way to meet people,” Zuckerberg said bitingly. “I do not see how one can meet another person in such chaos.”

“If you do not dance, then you never shall,” Eduardo said, unaccountably irritated by Zuckerberg’s disagreeableness. “What do you then propose as an alternative?”

“The only way to truly take someone’s measure is through conversation.” Zuckerberg turned once again so that he could look Eduardo in the eye. “A dance will not tell you if your partner can speak rationally or intelligently.”

“I must warn you, Eduardo,” interjected Dustin with a touch of amusement, “Mark has very fixed ideas about the traits he requires in an adequate partner.”

“Yes, indeed,” said Erica, smiling. “His partner must be attractive, naturally; intelligent; good with sums; knowledgeable of at least one other language; familiar with the Classics; and of course –“

“There must be a certain grace in the walk,” Dustin finished with a private grin. Erica burst into peals of laughter.

“Though of course he did not say it quite as well,” Erica said once she had recovered herself.

“I do not wonder at you remaining unattached, if your partner must fulfil all of those requirements,” Eduardo said, looking to Zuckerberg once again.

“Such a person would be most formidable,” agreed Christina. “Eduardo, let me see if I am able to guess your list. Intelligent, of course; sincere; and quick-witted.”

“A short list,” remarked Dustin. “Mark accuses me often of being too eager to like people; are you much the same, Eduardo?”

“He loves to care for people,” Christina said. Eduardo attempted to quell her with a sharp look, but she disregarded him. “He loves all people who need him.”

Eduardo met Zuckerberg’s eyes once more; then Zuckerberg looked away and Eduardo was left feeling as though he had somehow lost an argument.

Dinner was an excruciating affair. Eduardo was seated across from Mark so that the ladies could continue their conversation, and Dustin was too diverted by them to help Eduardo converse with the taciturn Zuckerberg. Eduardo considered and then discarded four topics before finally asking, “Your interests in mathematics – where do they lie?”

Zuckerberg stared at him for a moment before saying, “The applications.”

Eduardo bit his tongue so he would not say something rude in return. When he was sure he could speak without anger, he said, “I myself am very interested in probability. The weather is a specialty of mine.”

“The weather,” said Zuckerberg flatly. “What on earth is the use of that?”

“What are the uses of _your_ mathematics, Mr Zuckerberg?” demanded Eduardo, now truly annoyed.

“We do not have the time for me to explain,” Zuckerberg said coldly. “But I have made my family’s fortune twice over and my sisters should have no trouble with dowries.”

Eduardo clenched his hand around his fork and looked down at his meal so he did not have to look at Zuckerberg’s face. He was on no accounts an angry man, but Zuckerberg effortlessly aroused his ire. How one man could make him so angry, he did not know. He resolved to avoid speaking Zuckerberg for as long as he could and turned instead to listen to Erica and Christina's conversation.

Once the meal had concluded, Eduardo and Christina both made their excuses to depart. Dustin protested with all apparent sincerity before gracefully allowing them to return home. Erica extracted a promise from Christina that they would attend the ball at Netherfield, insisting that she needed a friend to build up her courage. Zuckerberg stood and watched them depart without saying a word, his expression unreadable. His gaze followed Eduardo into the coach, heavy

"That Mr Zuckerberg is most disagreeable," Christina said once they were on their way home. "He was so rude to you!"

"He is most intolerable," Eduardo agreed. "But I shall endeavour to look past it, if only for Christopher's sake."

"Indeed. Dustin is the kindest of gentlemen and Erica is so charming. It is a mystery to me why they are such steadfast friends –" She broke off with a small smile. "I should not speak so ill of someone I do not know."

Eduardo said nothing in reply, but he privately agreed with her assessment. Zuckerberg was indeed the most odious gentleman he had met, even including the more unpleasant men he had met in London. He could not think of anything that would engender a change of opinion.

*  *  *

When Christopher awoke the second morning of his invalidity, he felt much healthier. He dressed and went to find the kitchen in hopes of securing a cup of tea or a piece of bread. He was quickly found by Dustin, who said, “Christopher! What on earth are you doing out of bed? I cannot imagine that your health has improved that dramatically.”

“I do feel much better,” Christopher protested. “I had hoped for tea.”

“Of course,” said Dustin. “Come, we are having breakfast in our informal dining room. We would be delighted to have you join us.”

Christopher followed him and found Erica and Zuckerberg already eating a small breakfast an east-facing room. Dustin pulled out a chair for Christopher, then sat down beside him.

“Your friends are most charming,” Dustin told Christopher. “We had the pleasure of enjoying their company for dinner last night.”

“Yes,” agreed Erica. “Miss Christina is the most amusing young woman I have met.” She looked over to Zuckerberg. “And what of you, Mark? Did you enjoy our guests?”

“I suppose they were tolerable,” Mark said. “But Mr Saverin has such pride and Miss Lee talks more than I can bear.”

“Did you not think Eduardo a pleasant and attractive man?” asked Erica with a great deal of humour in her voice.

“He has fine eyes,” said Mark as if the words had been dragged from him. “But there is little else to recommend him.”

“I think you protest more than you ought,” said Erica serenely. Christopher started to laugh, but it hurt his chest and he began to cough violently. Dustin laid a hand on Christopher’s back and rubbed in small, soothing circles until the spasm had subsided.

“You should be in bed,” said Dustin. “You are still unwell.”

“I refuse to waste any more time lying in bed,” said Christopher firmly. “I must finish this history before the fall.”

“At any other time, I would admire your dedication, but now I think you are simply touched in the head,” Dustin said.

“His work ethic is a model for all,” Zuckerberg said. “You could learn from him, Dustin.”

“That was unreasonably cruel of you,” Dustin answered cheerfully. “I am sorry that I do not work hard enough for your liking, Mark – but then I cannot see how you manage to stretch your work out over the course of a whole day.”

Zuckerberg’s mouth unexpectedly curved up in the faintest hint of a smile. “Mr Hughes, I feel it is my duty to warn you that Dustin, while undeniably intelligent, does not use his gifts as well as he might.”

“Both a compliment and an insult in one fell swoop,” Erica remarked, buttering a scone with neat, precise motions. “I am impressed.”

Christopher looked at Dustin. He did not understand how a man as amiable as Dustin could be such close friends with someone as unpleasant as Zuckerberg. He could only surmise that Zuckerberg had some hidden virtues to which Christopher was not privy. Dustin did not seem offended by Zuckerberg’s words in the slightest; his smile remained just as affectionate as before.

“It is so kind of you to finally admit that I am intelligent,” Dustin said serenely. “If you remain as charming as you are now, Mark, I would not be surprised if all the ladies of Meryton threw themselves at your feet.”

Christopher laughed and quickly lifted his hand to cover his mouth. Erica hid her amusement by lifting a teacup to her lips, and Dustin winked at him. Christopher looked down, his heart beating rapidly in his chest. Never had he been so overcome with such affection before this. Indeed, he had never given much thought to love before meeting Dustin. Yet he found himself treasuring every smile Dustin directed his way. It was a terrifyingly unfamiliar feeling.

"I cannot impose myself upon your hospitality any longer," Christopher said, returning to the previous subject. "I deeply appreciate what you have done for me, but I fear that I will become a nuisance."

"Don't be absurd," said Erica. "We should drive each other mad were it just the three of us. You must stay until you are well."

"I am feeling much better already," protested Christopher.

"One more night will ensure that your health improves," said Dustin. "I will not send you home and risk you falling even more ill."

Any further protests were instantly refuted by Erica or Dustin. Christopher ceased his attempts, and instead gratefully accepted their offer of another night's hospitality.

He spent the remainder of the day in their parlor with a pile of books. Dustin sat with him, pretending to read a novel, but Christopher could feel the weight of Dustin's gaze as he took notes on the history of Netherfield's residents.

By the end of the afternoon, he had several pages worth of notes and a number of sources he wished to cross-reference with what he had already written. He set aside the pile of books and rose to his feet. He swayed a little, exhaustion settling deep into his bones.

Dustin was on his feet in an instant and he caught Chris’s elbow to keep him from falling. "See? You are not as recovered as you thought, Christopher."

"I must accept the truth of that," admitted Christopher wryly. "I thank you for saving me from embarrassment."

"Sickness is no embarrassment," said Dustin. "Come, you must rest. You have done a great deal of work today."

"Thank you," Christopher repeated, letting Dustin support him as they headed for the stairs. "You are so kind, Dustin."

Dustin made an aborted gesture, as though he were lifting his hand to Christopher's cheek. Then he smiled and said, "You make it easy to be kind."

Christopher grew hot for reasons unrelated to fever, and he could not reply for fear of giving himself away. He took to his borrowed bed and lay awake with heavy eyes, thinking of Dustin's smile.

*  *  *

He departed from Netherfield late the next morning, almost fully recovered from his illness. Dustin pressed one of the larger and more useful volumes into Christopher's hands as he left.

"You seemed to find this most informative," said Dustin when Christopher protested. "I can assure you that it is going to a better home. It should go to someone who appreciates its value rather than be allowed to linger, unread, in my library."

“You have been so kind,” said Christopher gratefully. “There is no way I could possibly thank you.”

“You can repay me by attending my ball,” said Dustin with a kind smile, raising Christopher's hand to his lips. Christopher flushed, aware of Erica and Zuckerberg's gazes upon him. “Christina has convinced me that hosting a ball would be a wonderful way to meet the people of Meryton.”

“I would be honoured to attend,” said Christopher.

"That is the most delightful news," said Erica brightly. "Do remind Christina and Eduardo of their promises to come. I find them most agreeable and would like to further our acquaintance."

"I shall," promised Christopher. "I am sure they will be delighted to hear that you think so highly of them."

“I will send you an invitation,” Dustin promised. He kissed Christopher’s hand once again, his lips lingering a little longer this time, then stepped back as Christopher mounted his horse. He looked down at Dustin, whose eyes were bright and affectionate.

"Thank you for all your kindness," he said once again with all the sincerity he could muster.

Dustin smiled. "It was my pleasure," he replied, and Christopher rode home, feeling as though nothing in the world could ruin his good mood.

*  *  *

Christopher completed the first draft of his history at the end of that week. The wealth of information in Netherfield’s library had been a most fortunate find. He had the manuscript delivered to his publisher and rested afterward. His cough had not subsided upon his return home, which had Eduardo frowning and worrying, though Christina insisted that a cough was nothing to fret over.

"You worry more than any nervous mother I have ever met," she said to Eduardo dismissively. "It is only a cough."

"If it lasts another week, you must call for a doctor," Eduardo said. "It would not do for you to expire before Dustin is able to express his true feelings for you. I would have interacted with Mr Zuckerberg for nothing."

"You really find him as odious as all that?" asked Christopher in astonishment. Eduardo was usually quick to forgive other people's faults. Admittedly, Zuckerberg was far from pleasant to be around, Chris acknowledged that. But he had half-expected Eduardo to come up with a reason to tolerate him.

"He is rude, insufferable, and arrogant," Eduardo said shortly, his eyes dark and dangerous. "Not to mention proud."

Christopher held his tongue at that, not wishing to arouse Eduardo's anger by pointing out that Eduardo was not free of pride himself. Christina laughed brightly.

"Zuckerberg made little attempt to hide his dislike for Eduardo," she explained in a stage whisper. "I doubt our dear friend is used to such callous treatment."

Eduardo looked irritated at her assessment. "That is absurd," he said. "I do not need him to like me."

"You need everyone to like you," said Christina dismissively. "It is your one true fault."

Christopher agreed, but privately felt that Eduardo's truest fault was his stubbornness. "He did not seem to hate you," he offered. "I think you could easily change his opinion of you. It is probably your father’s reputation that sours his attitude.”

"I will tolerate him for your sake," Eduardo told him, "for I have not seen you so happy in many years. I can only hope that I need not speak to him at Dustin's ball."

The invitations to the ball at Netherfield arrived the next week and threw the whole town into an uproar. Christina visited town to have her dress taken in and came back with the news that all the women of Hertfordshire seemed to have descended upon Meryton in hopes of obtaining an invitation to the ball, and that the shops were full of young ladies having dresses fitted.

Christopher fretted over his clothing; he was sure that he did not own anything fine enough to wear to such an event. He finally broke down and asked Eduardo for the use of a blue waistcoat, which Eduardo loaned him without question. Christopher told himself that he had not chosen the colour because Dustin thought it looked well on him, but he knew very well that he was lying.

On the night of the ball, Eduardo brought his carriage around for Christopher. Christina was already inside, looking the picture of elegance and grace in a fine gown of pale green silk. She smiled at Christopher and declared, "If Dustin does not fall over himself at the sight of you, why, then I am no judge of beauty."

"Or indeed of men," said Christopher.

"Dustin is far too easy to judge," Christina said serenely, her chin raised high. "His feelings towards you are most transparent. If he does not propose to you by season's end, I shall be very surprised indeed."

Netherfield was alive with lights and revellers. Dustin had extended the invitation to the visiting militia as well, and the halls were filled with elegant ladies and uniformed gentlemen. Christopher, Eduardo, and Christina moved through the crowd to pay their respects to their hosts. Dustin lit up at the sight of them.

"My dearest friends!" he pronounced loudly. "Your idea for the ball has been most splendid. And it gives me another opportunity to ask Christopher to dance." He bowed, smiling, and held out his hand.

Christopher felt his cheeks grow hot, and he said, "Dustin, if you are not careful, people will believe that you have chosen favourites."

"What makes you believe that I have not?" asked Dustin in a low voice. Before Christopher could react to that, he turned his attention to Christina and Eduardo. "I trust you are doing well this evening."

"Netherfield looks more beautiful than ever," Christina told him. "You have done a marvellous job."

"Thank you. I am afraid I cannot take credit for its transformation; Erica is the one who must be praised." He looked to Eduardo. "And Eduardo? Are you enjoying the ball?"

"We have only just arrived, but I must say it is much more elegant than any ball I have attended in recent years," Eduardo said.

A snort drew their attention to Zuckerberg, who stood to Dustin's left. "That does not surprise me."

"For someone who takes pride in not being noble," Eduardo said coldly, bristling angrily, "you certainly act like the very worst kind of titled snob."

Zuckerberg's already pale face went very white. Dustin stepped forward and took Christopher's elbow. "I suggest we vacate the area before they begin to argue in earnest," he said in a low voice. "I have spent the last week listening to Mark detail Eduardo's faults, and I would rather spend my time listening to you."

Christopher allowed Dustin to lead him away. He had no desire to listen to their argument either, and Dustin's hand was warm on his arm. “I did not think Mr Zuckerberg could have learned enough of Eduardo’s traits to criticize him so vehemently.”

“Mark does not need very much to criticize,” Dustin said with a sigh, and he launched into a story of the time Mark had infuriated the daughters of nearly every nobleman in central London.

*  *  *

Eduardo barely noticed Chris and Dustin's departure in the wake of his irritation at Zuckerberg's casual dismissal of country life. "I am sorry that we are not able to provide you with enough amusement," he continued, taking terrible pleasure in Zuckerberg's stricken expression.

"I apologize that I do not find the country sufficiently entertaining," said Zuckerberg in a chilly voice. "If that makes me a snob, then I suppose I must accept my lot."

"You are perfectly free to find the country dull," said Eduardo. "It is not your opinion I object to, but rather the manner in which you express it. Has no one ever taught you the art of politeness?"

"I see no reason to conceal my opinion," said Mark. "It is that sort of dishonesty that I abhor."

"It is the kind of dishonesty that allows for diplomacy," replied Eduardo. "Not everyone has the luxury of being able to speak his mind as you do."

"Luxury?" asked Mark.

"Yes, luxury,” snapped Eduardo. “You forget that you are monied and respected. Those of us with little standing and few resources must be careful that we don't speak out against others."

"You are speaking of yourself," Mark said. "Yet you seem to have no qualms in speaking your mind with me."

"Only because I do not think you are the kind to enjoy sullying another man's name," said Eduardo. "You would have to find someone you considered worthy of speaking to before you could gossip about my behaviour."

Mark's eyebrows rose at this, but he did not offer a further retort. Eduardo turned to Erica; she and Christina had been observing their argument with thinly veiled amusement. "You look lovely tonight, Erica."

"I thank you," Erica said. "You can imagine that I receive very few compliments with Mark and Dustin as my companions. Dear Dustin is too wrapped up in thoughts of another and Mark, well, he simply does not notice."

"Then I shall reap the benefits of their neglect." Eduardo smiled, but his gaze slid towards Mark. "I suppose you do not dance, Mr Zuckerberg?"

“I do not,” said Mark in tones of great hardship. "It is a perfectly illogical activity."

“Don’t be absurd,” scoffed Erica. “Why, if you will not dance with Mr Saverin, then I shall claim the honour for myself.” She dropped into a curtsey and said, "If I may be so bold as to claim this dance."

"I am greatly honoured by your request," said Eduardo. He held out his hand to Erica and led her out to the dance floor. He caught sight of Zuckerberg watching them with narrowed eyes and wondered if perhaps he harboured a secret affection for Erica. She did indeed look very well; the moment the first dance was over, her hand was claimed by one of the militia men, and Eduardo was left to amuse himself.

He drifted through the halls of Netherfield, taking in the general splendour. Christopher was still clasped in Dustin's embrace; they seemed not to notice that they had been dancing together for far longer than was strictly proper. Eduardo smiled, amused, and searched out Christina.

She found him first, a glass of wine in her hand. "How dare you leave me alone with Mr Zuckerberg?" she asked with mock anger. "I do not have your talent for cutting insults and we have nothing to converse on."

"Come now, Christina, you know that is not true." He offered her his arm. "I hope he was not too intolerable."

"I made my excuses quickly and left before he could be so," she said. "I must say, he is even prouder than I thought. The way he spoke to you! I do not think anyone has ever rebuked him so soundly before; he could not stop staring at you while you danced."

"So I observed," Eduardo agreed, "though I thought he was watching Erica."

"She does look very fine," agreed Christina, taking another sip of wine. Her cheeks were slightly flushed from exertion, and she looked happier than she had in ages. “She seems so lovely; it is curious that she is not yet engaged!”

They strolled along the borders of the room, looking around at the festivities. Suddenly, Christina’ hold on his arm tightened, her expression darkening into anger. Her voice was strained as she said, “Eduardo, _he_ is here.”

Eduardo knew without asking the man to whom she referred. It could be none other than Sean Parker, for no other man had ever aroused such ire in his friend. And indeed, a quick survey of the room found the man in question standing amongst a group of fellow soldiers, looking as smugly handsome as ever.

“Do you wish to leave?” Eduardo asked of Christina, concerned.

Christina looked as though she was eager to do so, but instead she lifted her chin proudly. “I cannot allow him to run me out. He is the one who should be ashamed, not I. I have done nothing wrong."

"Very well," said Eduardo. "Should you change your mind, I will be only too happy to oblige."

"Thank you. You are a true friend." She sighed, then, and said, "But there is no need to hurry the inevitable. Let us turn away before he sees us."

Together, they turned in the opposite direction, walking along the edges of the room. "I am sorry that your time here has been spoiled."

"It is of no great consequence," said Christina. "I should have –" She broke off suddenly as Zuckerberg appeared before them, his bearing stiff and uncomfortable.

"Mr Saverin. Miss Lee." He inclined his head a bare inch, then turned his attention to Eduardo. "May I have the honour of the next dance?"

"I thought you did not dance, Mr Zuckerberg," Eduardo said without thinking. Christina pinched him.

"If you insist that I be more civil, I must first gain experience of what your country life entails," Zuckerberg said. "I will not find a more demanding teacher."

For a moment, Eduardo was unable to formulate a response. Then Christina pinched him again, startling Eduardo into replying, "Yes." Zuckerberg inclined his head and drifted away towards the dancers. Eduardo looked at Christina in astonishment. "Has the world turned upside down?"

"You must discover what his aim is and tell me at once," Christina said urgently. "He may be odious, but he is at least rich."

"Don't be absurd," scoffed Eduardo. "He cannot possibly be interested in me." He compulsively straightened his clothing and hair before reflecting that Zuckerberg would not notice if he was dishevelled.

Zuckerberg was waiting for him at the dance floor. He gave Eduardo a polite bow as the music began. They passed through the steps by rote, neither of them speaking. After an intolerably awkward pause, Eduardo said, "Are we to pass this entire exercise in unsociable silence?"

"Is it the custom to speak?" asked Zuckerberg as they passed. "I do not think dancing is particularly conducive to conversation."

"And yet," murmured Eduard, "we are conversing."

"What, then, should we speak of?"

They were separated by the steps of the dance, but when they returned to each other, Eduardo suggested, "The number of couples. Our acquaintances. The weather, if all other topics are exhausted."

"Ah, yes," said Zuckerberg with a touch of irony in his voice. "The weather. Your special interest, is it not?"

"Your condescension is always very welcome," said Eduardo, stung by the dismissal in Zuckerberg's tone. "Do not trouble yourself with politeness."

"I was not endeavouring to insult your interests," Zuckerberg said, eyebrows drawing together in a frown.

"Then you should practice your conversation. How you secured such devoted friends, I shall never understand."

"You spend a great deal of time remarking on my poor conversational habits, but you seem incapable of avoiding insults yourself," remarked Zuckerberg. "Tell me, how am I to learn if my teacher does not offer me a good example?"

"You could start by listening when I teach." Eduardo drew even with Mark and took his hand as they turned around each other. He adopted a polite, dry tone and said, "The hall looks very fine tonight. I imagine a great deal of thought went into its preparation."

Zuckerberg was silent for a long moment before answering stiffly, "I believe that is so. Certainly Erica spent much time discussing its decoration."

"There, we are conversing," Eduardo said. "It is not as difficult as you make it out to be."

"It is even duller than I had imagined," murmured Zuckerberg, startling Eduardo into a startled burst of laughter. Zuckerberg looked almost as though he wished to smile.

"That cannot be denied, Mr Zuckerberg, but it is the social convention," Eduardo said, amused despite himself.

"My name is Mark," Zuckerberg said. The dance drew to a close and he bowed over Eduardo's hand. "Your instruction is much appreciated."

Eduardo stared, flummoxed, as Mark returned to his place on the border of the room. "What on earth was that?" he asked himself.

*  *  *

Christopher was absolutely astonished when he saw Eduardo dancing with Zuckerberg. He turned to Dustin and said, "Am I dreaming? Or are our two friends behaving civilly towards one another?"

Dustin followed his look and began laughing. "Oh my goodness," he said. "I have no idea what is happening, but I admit that it is highly amusing. I must go ask Mark what he is thinking." He bowed over Christopher's hand before excusing himself as the dance ended. Eduardo and Zuckerberg parted ways, neither looking back at the other.

Christopher hurried to Eduardo's side and asked, "How did you convince Mr Zuckerberg to dance with you?"

"He asked me," Eduardo said, though he sounded as though he didn't quite believe it himself. "He simply walked up and asked me to dance."

"And you said yes?" Christopher asked in disbelief. "But you despise him!"

"Christina made it very hard to say no." Eduardo half-turned so that his back was facing Zuckerberg and lowered his voice. "He asked me to call him Mark."

"What!" Christopher laughed in shock, but Eduardo looked utterly serious. "He did, really? What on earth is his aim?"

"I wish I knew." Eduardo's expression grew serious then. "Christopher, you must know – Sean Parker is here."

Christopher felt the familiar rush of rage sweep over him at the name. "Where is he? I should greatly like to smash his face in."

"You are not alone there," said Eduardo. "But I doubt Christina would appreciate that."

Christopher sighed heavily. He knew Eduardo was right about that, but he did not know that he would be able to converse pleasantly with Parker. He was not easily angered, as a general rule, nor did he carry grudges, yet he had found himself unable to shake his dislike for Parker. He knew he was not alone – Eduardo detested the man and Christina loathed him to the core, but they were both passionate people. Christopher prided himself on being even-tempered and logical. However, his greatest desire in life was to see Parker properly shamed and chastised for his poor behaviour, rather than all the blame falling upon the women he ensnared. He knew that if such the opportunity ever arose for him to ensure Parker’s fall from grace, he would not hesitate one instant before acting.

Christopher let his eyes roam over the crowd of revellers and found, with a jolt of horror, that Parker was standing with Dustin and Zuckerberg, apparently deep in conversation. Dustin chanced to look up then and he smiled, beckoning him over. Christopher exchanged a resigned look with Eduardo, and the two of them approached the small party with trepidation.

When they had come within earshot, Dustin said, “Christopher, Mr Parker says that he is acquainted with you and Eduardo. Is this true?”

Eduardo tensed up beside him and said, very coldly, “We do have that unique pleasure.”

Christopher felt ill at the sight of Parker’s smug, over-familiar face. He, along with Eduardo and Christina, had hoped never to see the man again. To find him with Dustin was perhaps the greatest insult – the greatest injustice – of all.

"Why, Mr Hughes, Mr Saverin," said Parker in a smooth voice. "How long has it been?"

"Not long enough," murmured Christopher despite his determination to stay silent.

Parker laughed with forced brightness. “Come now, Mr Hughes, why this hostility? Surely what is past can be forgiven. It was a mistake of youth.”

“Not at all,” said Christopher sharply. “What is between us will never be in the past.”

Dustin frowned, his gaze darting between Christopher and Parker. "I am afraid that I am missing something."

"Nothing of consequence," said Parker quickly. "Simply a misunderstanding several years old."

"Misunderstanding!" Christopher burst out, infuriated by Parker’s casual dismissal of the affair that had ruined Christina’s chances at marriage. Eduardo laid a hand on his shoulder and he reigned in his anger. He steadied his breathing before saying, "I apologize, but – Mr Parker, it was no mere misunderstanding. Excuse me."

He stepped away from them and went to secure a glass of wine to drown his anger. His hands shook with anger and he nearly spilled his drink onto the expensive floor. A gentle hand reached out to steady him.

"Christopher," said Dustin in a soft voice from behind him. "What on earth is the matter?"

"It is not my place to say," said Christopher tightly. "It is Christina's story, not mine."

"Ah." Dustin released his grip on Christopher's wrist. "I see." He sounded almost as if he did understand, though there was a definite note of curiosity in his voice.

Christopher turned to face him. "You need only know that Parker is the very worst kind of man. He has no sense of propriety. He thinks only of himself and his own comfort."

"If he has lost your approval, then he must be loathsome," said Dustin with all apparent sincerity.

"It is possible he has changed since I knew him," allowed Christopher. "I hope that he has, for Erica's sake. If he is known to be friendly with your family, it will do her reputation no good."

"I wish you had arrived sooner," said Dustin regretfully, "for Mark has already expressed his admiration for Mr Parker and invited him to visit Pemberley."

"I am sure Mr Zuckerberg's reputation will suffer no ill effects from associating with Mr Parker," Christopher said, trying his best to not seem impolite. "I only hope that I am wrong about him."

Dustin bit his lip, but offered no reply. He touched Christopher's shoulder gently before offering his hand. Christopher allowed him to take it. He did not feel at all reassured, and he found himself looking over his shoulder back to where Parker still conversed with Eduardo and Zuckerberg.

*  *  *

Eduardo could not help but feel betrayed when Christopher left. Parker was still smiling at Eduardo, his eyes daring him to say something.

"You look well, Eduardo," he said. Mark started, his eyes shifting from Parker to Eduardo. "I see that country life has treated you well."

"I don't recall giving you permission to address me by my given name," Eduardo snapped, temper rising.

"Apologies, Mr Saverin," Parker said mockingly. "I thought we had been through enough to engender familiarity."

"Only the kind that breeds contempt." Eduardo drew himself up straight and glared at Parker, whose smile grew wider and more devious.

Erica rejoined them, her eyes bright from dancing. "Oh, hello," she said, spotting Parker. "Are you a friend of Eduardo?"

Eduardo clenched his jaw and looked away. Parker said smoothly, "We are acquainted, yes. Sean Parker, at your service." He gave a bow that was correct to the inch; Eduardo had to grudgingly admit that Parker at least had all the social graces of a gentleman.

"Erica Albright," Erica said, smiling. She dropped a polite curtsey. "Are you enjoying your stay in Meryton?"

"It has not much changed since I was last here – save, of course, for the addition of your most delightful self and your companions." He bowed again. Eduardo swallowed down bile and turned away as he heard Erica give a surprised laugh.

"Why, Mr Parker," she said, "you are too kind."

Parker held out his hand to Erica. "I wonder if I may have the pleasure of your company for the next dance, Miss Albright?"

Erica flushed and said, "You may." She accepted his hand and allowed him to lead her to the dance floor, throwing a delighted look over her shoulder. Eduardo stifled his impulse to protest and tried to quell the feeling of dread in his stomach.

He turned quickly to Mark and said, "You should not associate with Mr Parker. It would be a great misjudgement."

“I am not yours to command, sir,” said Mark with great dignity. “Who I associate with is none of your concern, and Mr Parker appears to be an amiable gentleman, most unlike yourself.”

“I speak out of affection for your friends, not out of concern for your reputation,” retorted Eduardo. “You will ruin your Erica's reputation and destroy her chances at an advantageous marriage. Allowing a man such as Parker into your home will only result in tragedy for all of you.”

"Mr Parker warned me that you were given to dramatics of the highest order," observed Mark with an air of one who was very wise.

"Dramatics!" exclaimed Eduardo, offended. "He said that?"

"His accusations appear to be most accurate," said Mark, narrowing his eyes at Eduardo. "You have done little to disprove his assertions."

"You must consider yourself an excellent judge of character, if you trust the opinion of a man you have only just met," Eduardo snapped. "I see no need to explain myself to you. Excuse me."

He turned on his heel and stalked away, nearly blinded with anger. He burst out of a side door onto a balcony and gulped in a breath of fresh air. The night was cool and dark, a relief after the crowded exuberance of the ball. Eduardo leaned forward onto the balcony banister, letting out a breath and staring out over the darkened landscape.

He remained outside for at least a quarter of an hour, not wishing to return to the party, but soon he found himself shivering, and he was driven back inside towards the warmth. He avoided Mark and Parker until it was time to leave, and then he remained quiet while Christopher and Christina talked animatedly about the ball.

No one mentioned Parker.

*  *  *

Christopher did not miss Eduardo’s silence on the return journey from Netherfield. He did his best to distract them all with cheerful discussion of the fashions and who had danced with whom.

He went to visit Eduardo the following Monday to see how he was. Eduardo spent five minutes ranting about his argument with Zuckerberg before collapsing onto an armchair and saying, “Well, I suppose there is nothing I can do. I cannot stop him from making poor decisions.”

“Do you care if he does?” Christopher asked carefully.

“I am not worried about _him_ ,” Eduardo said disgustedly. “I am worried about Erica. What if Parker does to her what he did to Christina?”

Christopher sighed; that was his fear as well. “We must simply hope that they will be able to end things before they get out of hand,” he said pragmatically. “If necessary, I will ask Dustin to intervene.”

“That is all we can hope for,” Eduardo agreed. “Tell me, what did Dustin say about the situation?”

Christopher relayed his conversation with Dustin, deciding to save his questions regarding Eduardo’s dance with Mark until a later date. However, his plans were soon spoiled by the arrival of the mail carrier, who had a letter for Eduardo.

Eduardo took the letter from the messenger, murmuring his thanks. “It’s from my father,” he said after a moment. He lifted the envelope so Christopher could see the ostentatious wax seal.

He opened the envelope and gingerly pulled out the sheaf of paper. He read it quickly, his face giving away nothing. "I must go to London," he said after a moment. "My father requests my presence."

"What does he want?" asked Christopher, frowning.

"He want to talk about business," said Eduardo dully, folding the letter up and placing it in the breast pocket of his vest. "And he wants to have dinner with the Winklevosses."

Christopher sighed and reached out to lay a gentle hand on Eduardo's shoulder. "Would you like me to come with you? I might be able to make things easier – distract his attention from your marriage prospects."

"No, stay here," said Eduardo. "It is better that you stay as far away from my father as possible." He let out a heavy sigh. "I must pack. I will depart in two days, if weather permits."

"Two days’ time?" asked Christopher, stunned. "So soon?"

"He asks that I make all haste." Eduardo retrieved Christopher’s coat and offered a small smile as he passed it to him. “I should be back in just a short while. Thank you for your concern.”

Christopher sighed, but took the hint and allowed Eduardo to usher him out of the house. He turned to look in the direction of his own home. The day was pleasant, though, and Christopher decided that he would rather walk into town.

He walked, lost in thought over the summons Eduardo had received, and almost did not notice he had arrive in Meryton until he ran into another man. Apologizing profusely, Christopher stepped back to shake the man’s hand. His words dried up in his mouth when he realized that the man he had collided with was none other than Dustin.

“Dustin!” he said in surprise. “I am so sorry, I did not see you. I was dwelling upon the troubles of a friend.”

“I –” Dustin started, looking flustered. Then he shook his head. “Good day, Christopher. I was actually on my way to visit your home.”

“Why on earth were you doing that?” asked Christopher without thinking.

"I wanted to invite you and your friends to dine with me at Netherfield," Dustin stammered, eyes wide. "I had not – I apologize, I had not expected to see you here."

"I often walk to Meryton," said Christopher dumbly, now feeling slightly ashamed of his impolite reaction.

"I – yes," agreed Dustin. "It is a lovely walk, is it not?." He smiled tentatively. “But yes, I had intended on extending an invitation to you, Christina, and Eduardo. Do you think they would like to join us?"

"Eduardo has been called away to London," explained Christopher. "He had family business that could not be delayed, but I am sure he would be grateful for the invitation."

It was a blatant lie and they both knew it. Dustin smiled shyly. “I would be most honoured by your company,” he said hopefully. “You may bring Christina, if you like. Mark and Erica are likewise departing in three days' time; perhaps after that?”

“Christina will be visiting her cousin in Derbyshire,” Christopher breathed, his heartbeat speeding up. “It would be just you and I.”

Dustin ducked his head to hide his smile, but Christopher caught sight of his mouth turning up. “You will be coming, then?”

“Yes,” Christopher said fervently. “I will.” He bit his lip so he did not say anything too revealing and, ducking his head, walked quickly away towards his home.

He perhaps should have been more worried about the propriety of dining alone with Dustin, but he found himself looking forward to having a chance to spend uninterrupted time at Netherfield.

 

*  *  *

 

Upon his arrival in London, Eduardo was greeted by a second letter from his father, requesting his presence at the Winklevosses’s home the following night. Eduardo, who was exhausted and out of sorts from the journey, fell asleep before he could reply. In the morning, he sent his acquiescence and bathed so that he no longer bore the evidence of travel. When evening came, he set out towards Grosvenor Square, anxious and worried about what his father had planned for him.

He was greeted at the door by a servant and welcomed inside. Cameron Winklevoss, tall and handsome, came to the front hall to greet him with a warm smile and a firm handshake.

“Eduardo,” he said, “you are looking very well.”

“I thank you,” Eduardo said. “I trust I find you in good health.”

“I am, and my brother is as well.” Cameron escorted Eduardo into the parlour, where his twin brother Tyler was waiting.

“Good evening, Tyler,” Eduardo said, inclining his head. He was about to ask after his health when someone else spoke.

"Eduardo," said a surprised, familiar voice. Eduardo turned to find the source and saw Mark standing by the window, the fading sunlight bright on his angular features. He looked tired, as though he had only just arrived in London, and his clothes were rumpled, a stark contrast to the neat Winklevosses. "What are you doing here?"

Eduardo frowned at Mark and said, “My family are old acquaintances of the Winklevosses. I was not aware you knew them as well.”

“You know Mark?” asked Cameron, sounding amused. “That is quite a surprise. Mark knows so few people.”

“We met in Hertfordshire,” said Eduardo, meeting Mark's gaze as steadily as he was able.

“And how did you find his company?” asked Cameron. “I know he is not one for socializing, as a general rule.”

“I socialize with those I deem worthy,” Mark muttered.

“I must confess that he did not leave the best impression,” Eduardo said, annoyed with Mark’s persistent arrogance.

Tyler laughed, a hint of cruelty in his voice. “Now that is no surprise.” Mark’s expression grew ever more remote and his lips thinned into a line.

“I do not have the talent nor the desire to converse with people I do not know,” said Mark stiffly, which was a poor defence in Eduardo’s eye.

“You certainly seem very capable of passing judgement on them,” Eduardo replied sharply.

“As do you,” Mark replied, and they stared at each other for a moment before Cameron cleared his throat awkwardly.

“Mark, how are your sisters?” he asked in a clear attempt to change the topic of conversation.

“They are tolerably well,” replied Mark. “The eldest, Randi, is to be wed in a month’s time. She is presently staying at our house in Town so as to be properly outfitted with a dress.”

The conversation thus safely diverted, Eduardo let out a sigh of relief. Tyler was watching him closely, leaning back lazily on the sofa. Feeling uncomfortable, Eduardo stood to browse the small selection of books. He was so absorbed in ignoring the other men in the room that he failed to hear Mark’s approach until he was at Eduardo’s shoulder.

“They do not have the range of topics that Dustin’s library has,” Mark observed, a hint of judgment in his tone.

Eduardo swallowed, unnerved by Mark’s proximity, and said softly, “The library at Netherfield is uncommonly well-stocked, as I’m sure Christopher would attest.”

Mark let out a short breath that could, in certain circles, be considered a laugh. “True.”

“What are you doing here?” Eduardo asked again, though he tried this time to keep his hostility from his voice. “I had not expected to see you in London.”

“I have business to attend to and a sister to visit,” Mark said coolly. “And yourself? I suppose you are here to secure a marriage with one of the Winklevii.”

Eduardo had to stifle the bubble of laughter that rose, unbidden, in his chest. “You should not insult them so,” he hissed, glancing warily over his shoulder. “They are not as bad as all that.”

“So you _are_ here to become engaged,” said Mark. “How does it feel to be used as a bartering tool in your father’s bid for social status and renewed funds?”

“You are the most insufferable, ill-tempered –” Eduardo began angrily, temper flaring, but he was interrupted when the door opened and his father came in the room. Eduardo fell silent immediately.

“Good evening,” Lord Saverin said, surveying the room. “I trust I find you all well.”

“Very well, Father,” Eduardo said after a moment.

“Lord Saverin,” Mark said, inclining his head. Lord Saverin looked to Eduardo in curiosity, but Eduardo’s mouth had gone very dry.

“This is our business associate, Mark Zuckerberg,” Cameron said, cutting in smoothly before the silence became too oppressive. “I believe he met your son in Meryton.”

“Yes,” Eduardo said, finding his voice at last. “His friend Dustin Moskovitz has let the hall at Netherfield.”

“Ah, that is a fine estate,” observed Lord Saverin. He narrowed his eyes at Mark, considering. “Zuckerberg? Are you the Zuckerberg who is residing now at Pemberley?”

“The same,” Mark said.

Lord Saverin nodded thoughtfully, then said, “I should very much like to speak with you, if the opportunity arises."

“Mr Zuckerberg has a great interest in mathematics,” Eduardo said after a moment, taking both himself and Mark by surprise. “I am sure you will have much to discuss.”

“I have heard that is so,” Lord Saverin agreed, now observing his son with a distinctly suspicious glint in his eye. “Would you say that he is as uncommonly intelligent as he is reputed to be?”

Eduardo looked toward Mark, who stared back unabashedly. “Even more so,” he said with some reluctance.

“Is that so?” Lord Saverin looked impressed at this. “Well, then, Mr Zuckerberg, it is a great pleasure to make your acquaintance.”

Mark smiled stiffly; it looked unpractised on his face. “I am sure.”

Eduardo barely managed to suppress a wince. Lord Saverin’s expression remained fixed, but Eduardo was enough acquainted with his father’s moods to know that he was not pleased. It was fortunate that the Winklevosses’ servant called them to dinner then, for Eduardo was not sure that he could – or indeed, that he wished to – deflect his father’s anger. If anyone deserved the full force of Lord Saverin’s disapproval, Eduardo reflected, it was Mark Zuckerberg.

To his great displeasure, Eduardo was seated next to Mark at the dining table, who took the first opportunity to lean over and speak to him.

“I am even more intelligent than people say?” Mark murmured to Eduardo with more than a hint of smugness. “I never expected to hear such words of praise from you.”

“I was not about to lie,” Eduardo replied tersely, not looking at him. “It is not my custom to insult others to elevate my own status.”

Mark was silent for a moment. He eventually said, “That is admirable,” and spoke no more during the opening courses of the meal. Eduardo ignored Mark’s presence at his side and carried on a pleasant, if bland, conversation with Cameron about the current popular opera.

*  *  *

When the day came for his private evening with Dustin, four days after Eduardo’s departure, Christopher arrived at Netherfield early and found Dustin waiting for him, a small, hesitant smile on his face. “Christopher,” said Dustin warmly. He made a movement as if to embrace him, then seemed to remember propriety. “May I escort you to the sitting room?”

“Why not the library?” asked Christopher, and Dustin laughed.

“Single-minded as always, I see,” he said. “Very well, to the library, then.” He offered his arm and led Christopher to that beautiful room. Christopher let his hand trail over the spines of the books and found a beautifully bound copy of _Romeo and Juliet_.

“Your library is exquisite,” Christopher said, pulling it from its shelf. “I am always amazed by the scope.” He opened the volume at random and read, “‘If I profane with my unworthiest hand this holy shrine, the gentle fine is this: My lips, two blushing pilgrims, ready stand to smooth that rough touch with a tender kiss.’”

Dustin came to stand beside him and he gently took the book from his grasp. Christopher looked up, startled. Dustin folded one of Christopher’s hands between his own and said, “I – am glad you are here.”

Dustin stood in such close proximity to him that he could feel the warmth of Dustin’s body. Christopher looked down at their joined hands and thought of the scene he had just read from. Simply imagining it made him flush; he did not lightly bestow physical gestures of affection. “I am glad too,” he murmured, too embarrassed to look up at Dustin. He liked Dustin very much, but he found his behaviour confusing. Christopher was accustomed to the strict manners of proper courting, and Dustin was flaunting _all_ of them.

He resolved to speak on it later, if he could find his courage, and allowed himself to be distracted by conversation about Shakespeare’s later works. Dustin had a surprisingly broad knowledge, though he rather predictably preferred the comedies to the tragedies, a point which Christopher debated him on until the maid called them to eat.

They ate dinner while discussing the history that Christopher was writing. Dustin shared the stories about the estate that he had learned while deciding on whether to live there and Christopher took notes, getting ink on his nose in the process and nearly spattering his paper with gravy.

When they removed to the sitting room, Dustin gestured Christopher closer. “You have ink on your face. Let me,” he said, and he removed his handkerchief. Chris smiled and leaned closer so that Dustin could rub the ink from his skin. “There,” Dustin said softly once he had finished. “As handsome as ever.” He tucked the handkerchief into Christopher’s breast pocket, fingers gentle.

Christopher suddenly realized how close they were and hurriedly moved away, blushing furiously. He had to speak now; he could not live any longer in such a state of anticipation and hope. “I – I must ask, Dustin, is there an intent behind this dinner?”

“An intent?” asked Dustin, frowning. “I am afraid I do not comprehend your meaning.”

“Are you – surely you realize what it will seem like, us dining alone together?” Christopher watched Dustin’s face carefully, but he saw no trace of understanding. “Dustin, people will talk.”

“Does it matter? People will always talk.” Dustin smiled. “That is what Mark always says.”

“Of course he would say so,” said Christopher, now slightly annoyed. “However, _I_ do not have the luxury of such wealth that affords eccentricity. My reputation is precarious. Is this simply a dinner between two friends?”

Dustin looked at him for a moment; then he said, “It is if you wish it to be.”

Christopher sighed and reflected that he had no way of making his meaning clearer without making a fool of himself. “Very well.”

They sat in uncomfortable silence for a moment. Then Dustin ventured, “I received a letter from Mark today. He said he met Eduardo at the home of his business associates – Cameron and Tyler Winklevoss?”

“Oh, yes,” said Christopher, diverted. “Eduardo’s father dearly wishes him to marry one of them. I know Eduardo is partial to Cameron; he is the kinder of the two.”

“Mark has a very low opinion of them,” said Dustin, as though that settled the matter.

“He seems to have no other kind,” Chris said coolly. He did not know the Winklevosses, and he knew that Eduardo did not particularly wish to marry either of them, but he liked to believe that Cameron Winklevoss was a kind gentleman who could, perhaps, make Eduardo happy.

Dustin laughed, though it sounded brittle, and said, “That is largely true, I must confess.”

“Why are you friends with him?” he demanded, the question bursting out of him before he could prevent it. “He is – so very intolerable.”

He regretted it the moment he finished speaking. His own lingering annoyance with Dustin’s lack of understanding regarding propriety as well as the faint sense of hurt that Dustin had not protested the label of friends had overruled his better judgement. Dustin looked suddenly angry, his brows drawn and his mouth pressed tight.

“He is not as bad as all that,” Dustin said lowly. “And I would appreciate it if you spoke more kindly of my friends.”

“He does not bother to speak kindly of mine,” Christopher retorted. “Why, he has been nothing but rude to Eduardo, and he was most impertinent towards me!”

“What did he say to you?” asked Dustin, frowning more deeply.

“It is of no importance!” Christopher said, flushing. He did not wish to divulge the topic of conversation to Dustin, not when Dustin had not said he wanted more than just friendship. “But he asked me such personal questions without any consideration. You, you are so kind and amiable that I must confess that I am confused as to why you would spend your time with someone so – so disagreeable.”

“I should then ask why you are such close friends with Christina,” snapped Dustin, colour rising in his pale cheeks. “You are so concerned with propriety, yet I am given to understand that she is perhaps the least respected woman in Hertfordshire!”

Christopher reeled back, feeling as though he had been struck. “Christina is a dear friend whom I have known since we were both children,” he replied hotly. “What happened to her was not her fault!”

“You excuse her poor judgement, but you cannot excuse Mark’s lapses?” demanded Dustin. “Mark speaks honestly; he does not conceal his feelings, which is more than I can say for _you_!”

“Excuse me?” Christopher leapt to his feet, pulse pounding. “I have never lied to you.”

“You have never been wholly honest, either.” Dustin also rose from his seat and he stepped closer to Christopher, eyes blazing. “What is that you truly wished to ask me earlier?”

“Nothing,” spat Christopher, his normally quiescent temper now in full flare. “Nothing at all. I shall take my leave, Mr Moskovitz, and you need suffer my dishonesty no more.”

Christopher whirled around and stalked from the room. He seized his jacket from the maid as he passed her and was almost out of the front door when Dustin seized him roughly around the wrist, tugging him back.

Without pausing to think, Christopher turned and slapped Dustin across the face. They both froze as the sound resounded in the entry hall. There was a white handprint on Dustin’s cheek now, stark against his angry flush. Trembling with anger and fear – and a small amount of remorse – Christopher waited for Dustin to speak.

But Dustin was simply staring at him, his eyes wide. His grip on Christopher’s wrist tightened slightly, and Christopher winced. Almost a full minute passed in silence. Then Christopher yanked his hand from Dustin’s grasp, said, “If you have nothing else to say, I will be on my way. Good evening, Mr Moskovtiz,” and he fled.

Christopher was not often given to weeping, but he found himself wiping away angry tears once he had arrived at home. He had been so optimistic about – about _everything_ , and it had all fallen apart in one cruel instant.

His gaze fell on the volume that Dustin had loaned him from the library at Netherfield and he let out a low groan. Rather than allow himself to dwell on the night that had gone so horribly, he pulled a piece of paper towards himself and began to write. Not a history this time, but a piece of fiction – something he had never attempted in real earnest before.

He wrote until his candles had burned nearly halfway down and his eyelids were heavy. He dragged himself up to his bed and fell into a deep, dreamless sleep. He did not notice that Dustin’s handkerchief had fallen out of his pocket and onto the floor beside his bed.

*  *  *

Eduardo spent much of his time in London going over his father’s accounts as well as attending to his own investments. He allowed himself one night at the opera, which was a particular pleasure, and spent the first act pleasantly engrossed in the narrative.

During the interval, he was shocked when none other than Mark Zuckerberg arrived at his box, accompanied by a woman Eduardo did not know. Eduardo hastily rose to his feet and offered a bow. “Mark, hello. This an unexpected – event.” He could not quite force himself to say _pleasure_.

“Good evening,” Mark said stiffly. “Are you enjoying the performance?”

“I am,” Eduardo replied, still stymied. “Do you enjoy the opera?”

“Not in the slightest,” Mark said. “I find it unnecessarily melodramatic and unrealistic.”

The woman at Mark’s side cleared her throat politely. She looked to be a few years older than them, fashionably dressed, and elegant. She smiled and asked, “You are Eduardo Saverin? Mark pointed you out from our box.”

“Yes,” said Eduardo. “I am sorry, I am afraid you have me at a disadvantage.”

“I am Mark’s sister,” she said. “Randi. It is a great pleasure to finally meet you.”

Now that he took note, Eduardo saw that Randi looked much like her brother, though she was obviously more apt to smile than he was. She beamed at Eduardo brightly and explained, “I have heard much about you, though I am afraid words do not do justice.”

“It is a great pleasure to meet you, Miss Zuckerberg,” Eduardo said, inclining his head. “I hope that what you have heard has not been too damaging.”

“Dustin has spoken very highly of you,” Randi protested, smiling. “As has my brother, much to my surprise. Very few people are fortunate enough to secure his good opinion.”

Eduardo looked up and met Mark’s gaze, trying not to give away how surprised he was by this news. Mark looked mulish, his jaw set as if daring him to comment. Eduardo smiled politely and said, “I assure you, it is a surprise to me as well.”

Randi looked surprised at this and said, “I hope I have given no offence.”

“Not at all,” Eduardo said, looking back at her. “I understand you are to be married soon. My congratulations and best wishes.”

Mark snorted softly. Randi did not appear to notice, as her smile did not falter in the slightest. “Thank you very much,” she said brightly. “Do you think you would like to attend? Only we are most eager to have as many guests as possible. Perhaps we will finally be able to find Mark a match!”

“I do not think I would be welcome,” Eduardo said doubtfully.

“Nonsense!” protested Randi. “And you must bring your friends. Oh, it will be lovely. We are having it at the estate at Pemberley, have you ever seen it?”

“No, never, though I hear it is very fine.” Eduardo looked to Mark, whose expression had grown even more inscrutable.

Randi seemed blissfully unaware of her brother’s discomfort. “Oh, it is! It is a perfect place for a wedding. I am sure you will enjoy yourself. What is your address in Town?”

Eduardo provided her with the information, and she promised to send a proper invitation. “You will come, though?” she added anxiously before they parted.

“I will,” Eduardo promised, rather rashly. “I would not miss it for anything, Miss Zuckerberg.”

“Oh, do not be silly, you must call me Randi.” She smiled at him and dropped a polite, if slightly wobbly, curtsey. “It was wonderful to meet you. Good-bye!”

Mark nodded curtly to Eduardo before turning to follow his sister. Eduardo stood stock-still in his box, wondering whether he was dreaming. He took his seat again as the second half began, but he found himself distracted, mulling over the puzzling conversation. As a consequence, he took in very little of the performance, applauding only when he noted that others were doing so.

He wished he had a confidante with whom he could discuss this unexpected turn of events, but he had no friends in London that he could speak to, and any letter he sent to Meryton would take weeks to arrive. He dearly wanted to speak to Christopher, to ask him if he should be worried that Mark was discussing him with his sister.

He was further discomfited, two days later, to receive an invitation to dine at the Zuckerbergs’ residence in Town. He read it over to be sure he had understood, then paced the length of his room for nearly half an hour. He could not refuse – not after meeting them on the street – but he was not sure if he could spend a full evening in Mark’s company without Erica and Christina to distract him.

He sent his reply and spent the remainder of his day composing a letter to Christina outlining the absurdities of his visit to London. He readied himself before dinner before walking alone to the Zuckerbergs’ residence despite the protestations of his valet.

He was greeted by a young maid who escorted him to the sitting room, where Randi was waiting, her hands neatly clasped on her lap. “Eduardo!” she exclaimed as if they were old friends. “How are you? I am delighted that you agreed to come to dinner. Mark has spoken so highly of you that I feel I must get to know you better.”

“Highly?” Eduardo asked in surprise.

Randi opened her mouth to answer, but was interrupted by the untimely arrival of her brother. He gave Eduardo a stiff bow and said, “I trust you are well?”

“Tolerably well, yes,” said Eduardo. “And yourself?”

Mark made an aborted movement, as if to brush away the pleasantries. “Fine.”

Randi gave a small cough and said, “Eduardo, may I ask about your work with probability?” and Eduardo found himself explaining his study of the weather and his methods for searching out the patterns. He noted that Mark stared at him as he spoke, but he endeavoured not to let it irritate him.

The conversation soon led to a more detailed discussion of mathematical theory. Randi proved remarkably competent in understanding the terms, though she admitted her true interest was in law. Mark spoke rarely, but offered a few well-chosen comments about Eduardo’s work and even expressed some admiration for a particular equation Eduardo had written. He was much more amiable than Eduardo remembered him being in the past. Eduardo found himself almost enjoying Mark's company. Randi was most delightful, as talkative and energetic as her brother was taciturn and reserved, and Eduardo found that he quite liked her. After they had exhausted the topic of mathematics, they moved on to discuss literature and politics, as well as the Grand Tour Randi planned to take for her honeymoon.

“When do you leave London?” asked Randi towards the end of the meal. “I understand you are only here for a short time?”

“My stay is almost over,” Eduardo told her. “I will be returning to Meryton the day after next.”

“So soon?” Randi sighed. “I find you to be a most engaging conversationalist. I wish we had the time to become better acquainted. But you will be attending my wedding, will you not? I suspect you will like my fiancé. He is most amiable and is very interested in economics.”

“I will,” Eduardo said, unable to refuse to her face. “I did promise, did I not?”

“Excellent,” Randi said briskly. “I will hold you to that.”

Eduardo met Mark’s eyes and saw that Mark was watching him with a strange intensity. He flushed, though he wasn’t entirely sure why, and hurriedly asked Randi about the plans for her wedding.

Randi refused to allow Eduardo to walk home in the dark and gave him the use of a carriage. To Eduardo’s astonishment, Mark offered him a hand and helped him up. His fingers were cool and strong, and his hand lingered just for a moment longer than was necessary. Once he was seated and on his way, Eduardo rubbed his hand against his jacket, trying to scrub away the feeling of Mark’s touch.

*  *  *

Christina returned to Meryton a day after Christopher’s disastrous supper at Netherfield. Christopher wanted to speak to her about it, but the memory of Dustin’s cruel dismissal of her still rankled and he did not want to cause her any more grief.

Instead, he pretended that all was well and feigned illness when she went to visit Erica. He focused on writing his short story, which had come along remarkably well. He did not touch the manuscript for his history.

He kept Dustin’s handkerchief folded up in his jacket, and he found himself touching it absently when he was thinking. He could not bring himself to throw it out or even to launder it. There was still a smudge of ink at the corner, and sometimes he would unfold the square of fabric and stare at it. He came very close to throwing it on the fire late one night, but he stayed his hand, gaze caught on the embroidered initials at the corner.

As the days passed, his anger dulled and he began to yearn for reconciliation. He had gotten unreasonably angry with Dustin who, after all, had not been raised in circumstances of wealth and had clearly never learned the rules of propriety as a young child. His outbursts regarding Christina could be excused; Dustin did not know the whole story and he had merely been reacting to Christopher.

But he could not work up the nerve to ask to speak to Dustin. He felt wholly embarrassed by how he had acted and he could not imagine that Dustin would wish to see him. So he put it out of his mind as best as he was able and buried himself in his hobbies.

*  *  *

Eduardo rose early the day before he left London, intending to finish up his business. However, not more than an hour after he had risen, he received an unexpected caller. He came into the parlour and found Mark standing by the window, the early morning light casting sharp shadows across his face.

“Mark!” Eduardo exclaimed, surprised. “You are awake early.”

“I wanted to be sure to find you at home,” Mark said, a strange look on his face. He was shifting from foot to foot. After a moment, Eduardo realized that he was _nervous_. “I have a matter of some import to discuss with you.”

Eduardo waited. When Mark showed no signs of beginning, he prompted, “What is it?”

“It is – I have found myself in an unexpected situation,” Mark said, fidgeting. “I have long sought to fight against my own baser instincts, but I find that my misgivings are no match for the desires of the flesh.”

There was a short pause. Then Eduardo said slowly, trying to work out Mark's meaning, "I am afraid that I do not comprehend your meaning. If you are speaking of Christina, I am afraid that she is not –"

"Do not attempt to conceal your intelligence or your understanding," said Mark sharply. "I know you comprehend more than you admit. It is not Miss Lee that I am speaking of, but you. I much desire to – to know you better, despite your unfortunate circumstances."

Eduardo then realized what Mark was trying to ask and for a moment he was speechless with shock and disbelief. When he regained the ability to speak, he said coldly, "You insult me and you insult my integrity, Mr Zuckerberg. I do not know what these misgivings of yours may be, but you may rest assured that my own misgivings of you are quite profound. I have tried to find the good in you despite your repeated rudeness and ill temper, but I see now that my original opinions of you were more accurate than I could have imagined. Your continued association with Sean Parker despite my warnings only strengthens my resolve in this matter. You may take your ill-considered proposition and damn it to Hell."

Mark was silent for a moment. Then he asked, "Is that a refusal?"

"It is," Eduardo said in a cold voice. "I shall never be so foolish as to enter any sort of union with you, as it is now clear to me that you have no understanding of how to treat other people. Please see yourself out."

Mark looked as though Eduardo had struck him and Eduardo took a moment of petty triumph in seeing the man struck down. He regretted every instance of pity and sympathy he had felt for Mark, and he was determined now that he could not let Christopher align himself so closely to a man of such poor values, despite Dustin’s many qualities.

“I – will trouble you no longer, then,” said Mark after a moment. He turned on his heel and left. Eduardo sank down on the sofa, shocked and furious.

He called for tea to calm his emotions, then set to pacing the length of the room. Of all the absurd, ill-thought, and poorly planned ideas to propose! he thought furiously. And it was clear that Mark thought very little of him, if he thought Eduardo could be swayed into a merely physical relationship with anyone, let alone _him_.

His valet arrived with tea and Eduardo forced himself to calm down. He would be returning to Hertfordshire in the morning and he would have a chance to think over what Mark had said. And once he was home, he could speak to his friends.

His father returned to the residence that evening for supper. They spent the meal in near silence, and Eduardo allowed himself to believe that he could depart from London without having an argument with his father.

Once the meal had been cleared away, Lord Saverin rose to his feet and said, “Come, Eduardo. I must speak with you.”

Eduardo dutifully followed his father into the study and watched as Lord Saverin paced the floor, much as he himself had earlier. Eventually, he ventured, “Father? What is it that you wished to say?”

“I heard that Mark Zuckerberg proposed to you,” his father said abruptly.

Eduardo went cold all over. “You are mistaken,” he said tonelessly. A proposal? If that had been Mark’s idea of a proposal – Eduardo could not believe it was so. Surely no one could be that utterly inept in conveying their meaning. But he thought again on Mark’s expression and his nervous movements and wondered if perhaps his father could be correct.

“I am?” asked his father. “Cameron Winklevoss seemed very sure of it. He told me that he had intended to make you an offer until Mr Zuckerberg stopped him. Apparently he is quite taken with you.”

“Even if he was, I would not accept,” Eduardo said stiffly, a faint feeling of guilt beginning to worm its way into his heart. “Would you have wanted me to?”

“He may not have the pedigree of the Winklevosses,” said Lord Saverin thoughtfully, “but he certainly has enough funds to restore our family’s name, even if he has no title himself.”

Eduardo bit his tongue against the retorts he wished to make. Once he had calmed himself, he said, “It is irrelevant, Father. There was no proposal.”

"It is a pity," remarked Lord Saverin. "You are unlikely to find a...wealthier match."

Eduardo went scarlet and turned away so his father could not see. “I thank you for your concern, Father,” he said coolly. “But I can assure you that I have made no efforts to attract Mr Zuckerberg’s affections. You have said you wish me to marry Cameron Winklevoss and I will honour that agreement.”

“Yes,” said Lord Saverin. “Cameron Winklevoss is much preferable, though he does not have the same funds as Mr Zuckerberg. He is widely respected. If Mr Zuckerberg _does_ make you an offer, I would prefer that you did not accept. He may be rich, but he is not of noble stock. Cameron is by far the better match.”

Eduardo nodded jerkily, feeling a burning desire to escape his father’s company. “Yes, indeed. If Cameron still wishes to make me an offer, I will accept. However, I must return to Meryton. I have already stayed longer in London than I had intended.”

“What business could be so urgent in _Meryton_?” asked his father in disbelief.

“Personal business,” Eduardo lied. “I am sorry, Father, but I will depart tomorrow. I will return to London before the end of the season, if Cameron is still amiable.”

“He has expressed his admiration for you on numerous occasions,” said Lord Saverin. “Very well, I shall convey your regrets to Mr Winklevoss. I only hope that he does not find someone he likes more. You must not wait too long.”

Eduardo swallowed hard and made himself smile. “I shall return,” he repeated, and he left the room, eyes stinging with prideful tears. No matter what he did in his life, his father could always cut him down with the most casual of remarks. One day, he hoped, he would be married, their family's wealth and status would be restored, and his father would have no more cause to criticize him.

He gathered his belongings, then sat on his bed and thought again of what Mark had said to him that morning. He could not find anything that he could have possibly interpreted as a proposal of marriage; his father must be mistaken. The alternative was simply too preposterous to consider.

*  *  *

Christopher finally worked up the nerve to speak to Dustin the day Eduardo was due to arrive home. He sent a note to Netherfield asking if Dustin could spare a moment for him, but his servant returned with the note unopened.

“Mr Hughes, I am afraid Mr Moskovitz was not home,” William said anxiously. “I believe his party has left Netherfield, though the maid I spoke to said I was to give you this.” He held out an envelope.

Christopher took it, heart thumping. “They have left?” he asked in astonishment. “What about Mr Zuckerberg?”

“He returned yesterday evening,” said William. “I believe it was his return that signalled it was the time to depart.”

Christopher thought that made little sense, but he thanked William regardless and went to his study to read the letter. At first, he could hardly comprehend its contents. He read it over again, his hands shaking, and then he sank into his chair. He did not know whether to be angry or sad – but he knew he had lost his chance to mend his relationship with Dustin.

*  *  *

When Eduardo arrived home, he found Christopher and Christina waiting for him in his sitting room. Christina looked perfectly at ease, but Christopher was unusually agitated, his normally impeccably neat clothing rumpled and his eyes bright with emotion. He had a letter clutched in his hands.

“Do you have something to tell us?” Christopher asked the moment he saw Eduardo.

Eduardo frowned, not sure what Christopher meant. “I am afraid I do not know –”

“Did something happen in London?” pressed Christopher.

“What on earth are you talking about?” asked Eduardo, though he had a sinking feeling that Christopher was somehow talking about Mark’s proposal. He looked at Christina, who shrugged apologetically.

Christopher threw the letter at Eduardo, his expression stormy. “I assume there is some sort of explanation for this?”

Eduardo unfolded the sheet of paper with great reluctance. He recognized Erica’s neat script on the outside, and he had seen the last carriages departing from Netherfield. He had a feeling that he knew what her letter would say, and he was afraid of seeing his suspicions confirmed. He read out,

_Christopher,  
I regret that this letter will not reach you until after we have departed from Netherfield, but there was little time and Dustin has had no opportunity to speak with you. Mark has insisted that we relocate to his home at Pemberley. I am afraid I do not know the reason for our departure. Mark did not wish to speak of it other than to say that he can no longer stand to stay in Meryton. I can only presume something must have happened between him and Eduardo when they were in London._

_Please know that this was not Dustin’s decision and that he fought Mark at every step. You must endeavour to return to his side; I fear for his happiness otherwise. I know you argued when last you saw each other, but I am sure you can overcome your differences._

_Your friend,  
Erica_

“What a childish reaction!” burst out Eduardo when he was finished. Christopher stared at him, not bothering to conceal his shock. “That he should flee simply because I rejected him –”

“Rejected him?” interrupted Christina, perking up. “What do you mean, rejected him? Eduardo, did Mr Zuckerberg make you an offer?”

“Yes, one that was so insulting that he can hardly be surprised I did not accept.” Eduardo threw the letter onto the table. “If he should have taken his temper out on his friends – why, then he is even less of a gentleman than I had supposed.”

“It said, though, that Dustin did not want to leave,” Christina said encouragingly to Christopher. “Perhaps their departure was entirely due to Mr Zuckerberg’s – humiliation.”

“It cannot solely be his fault,” Christopher said miserably, sinking down on the sofa beside Christina. “We quarrelled, Dustin and I. It was – the most absurd argument, but we had no chance to make amends. Perhaps now we never shall.”

“Do not be so pessimistic,” Eduardo said, now feeling guilty. “Mark – Mr Zuckerberg’s sister has invited us to her wedding. It would be a chance for you to speak with Dustin again. I am sure he will attend.”

“Surely we will not be welcome,” Christopher protested.

“Miss Zuckerberg has informed me that I am to attend no matter what,” Eduardo said, “and she gave me permission to bring you. I had not thought to go, given – but if I can help you reunite with Dustin, it is more than worth the sacrifice of spending a day with Mr Zuckerberg.”

“I shall write back to Erica,” Christina said firmly. “I am sure she will help us. We will get you to that wedding, Christopher.” She got to her feet and swatted Eduardo across the head. “I don’t suppose you were very polite in your refusal of Mr Zuckerberg’s affections?” she asked tartly.

“I was as polite as the circumstances dictated,” said Eduardo tightly. Christina rolled her eyes heavenward and went to use Eduardo’s writing desk, muttering under her breath. Eduardo looked at Christopher hopefully.

“I do not wish to discuss the matter now,” said Christopher, catching Eduardo’s eye.

Eduardo sighed heavily, guilt twisting in his stomach. “Christopher, if I had known how Mar – how Mr Zuckerberg would react, I would have endeavoured to reject him more politely.”

Christopher sighed. “It is not your fault. I had thought, just for a moment, that perhaps I had found someone who I – could care for. But clearly it was not meant to be.”

“Oh, Christopher,” said Eduardo plaintively. “Please do not give up on love because of this. I have seen how Dustin is with you and if that is not love, then it does not exist.”

Christopher smiled wanly. “Thank you, but I think it is best if we let things end naturally rather than risking heartbreak.” He rose to his feet and said, "I think I had better return home." He took his coat and headed for the door. Eduardo watched him go with a heavy heart, feeling terribly guilty.

The invitation for Randi’s wedding arrived several days later. Eduardo stared at the envelope and wondered if he did, indeed, still wish to attend. Then he thought of Christopher’s face and how he had been quieter than usual over the last few days and knew that he had to try to reunite Dustin and Christopher. He hated the thought of Christopher remaining alone and loveless, and he had rarely seen his friend as happy as when he had been with Dustin.

"We must convince him to attend," he told Christina later. "I am worried for him."

"I am too," she confessed. "He is almost as morose as he was after his father's death. He has abandoned his history, did he tell you that?"

"No," Eduardo said, startled. "He did? Why on earth would he do that?"

"The only part he had left to write was the history of Netherfield." Christina gave up attempting to embroider and threw the piece of cloth aside. "You can understand why he hasn't written more."

"Oh, I feel awful," sighed Eduardo, rubbing his face. “This is my fault.”

Christina rapped him on the shoulder, scowling disapprovingly. “You are being perfectly absurd,” she said sharply. “The only person who is to blame is Mr Zuckerberg. He is the one who fled Hertfordshire. It is not your fault that you did not want to accept him.”

Eduardo saw the gleam of curiosity in her eyes and knew that she was desperate to know the whole of Mark’s proposal. With a great internal sigh of relief, he said, “If you wish to know what he said, you need only ask.”

Christina immediately flapped her hand dismissively. “It can wait,” she said, though she could not disguise the longing in her voice. “I suppose Christopher would also like to hear the tale. Perhaps it would rouse him from this melancholic stupor.”

“Oh,” sighed Eduardo, “I do hope so. We must dine together tonight; then I shall tell you what happened.”

He sent out a missive to Christopher, and Christopher rode back with Eduardo’s servant, looking tired and slightly ill. “Hello,” he said when he had taken off his coat. “What is this story you say you have?”

Eduardo gestured for him to sit and waited until his audience was settled. Once they were still, he began to recount what had happened in London, from his unexpected meeting with Mark at the Winklevoss’s house to Mark’s sudden and highly memorable proposal. “And,” he concluded, “my father has told me that Cameron Winklevoss had intended to make an offer until Mr Zuckerberg asked him not to. So I must return to London so that I may be married before long, if indeed he has not changed his mind.”

Christina, who had listened with rapt attention and wide eyes, said, “Oh, the impertinence of Mr Zuckerberg! That he should think someone like you could be tempted into a union with someone like him! Why, you could secure any husband you pleased.”

Christopher looked diverted for the first time since Eduardo had returned to Meryton. “What on earth could have possessed him to make such a proposal?” he wondered. “It never seemed to me that he held you in any particular regard, and you have made your dislike for him well known.”

“I have no ideas,” confessed Eduardo. “It seemed most out of character.”

“Perhaps he did it out of spite,” suggested Christina. “Is it possible he wished to damage your prospects?”

“But he seemed genuinely upset that I rejected him,” Eduardo said doubtfully. “All it would take for him to ruin me is to say a few well-chosen words to the Winklevosses. He is their business associate; they would no doubt trust his word.”

“Then I am at a loss to explain his behaviour,” Christina said. “Christopher, do you have any theories?”

“I think we must admit that the most likely reason is that he indeed wished to enter into a union with Eduardo,” said Christopher after a moment. “As improbable as it may seem, any other motives are simply ridiculous, and Mr Zuckerberg is nothing if not pragmatic.”

“Are you sure that attending his sister’s wedding is indeed the best course of action?” asked Christina, looking to Eduardo. “He will most assuredly be in attendance.”

“It is of no consequence,” said Eduardo. “It will be a pleasant diversion, as long as we manage to avoid his company, and I believe you will like Miss Zuckerberg.” He did not mention that Dustin would be in attendance, though he was sure that Christopher could infer their intent.

“As long as she is nothing like her brother, I am sure we will get along famously,” said Christina.

They both looked to Christopher for confirmation of their plans. He regarded his hands for a moment, then lifted a face that was set and sure. “It will be my honour to accompany you.”

“Excellent,” said Christina briskly. “Erica has said we will be made most welcome at Pemberley, which sounds as if it is a very large estate indeed. She has invited us to stay for the day before the wedding as well. Isn’t that lovely?”

Eduardo’s heart sank at this; he had hoped that he could avoid prolonged contact with Mark. If they were to stay at his home, it seemed inevitable that they would have to speak, and Eduardo had no notion of what he would say, especially since he thought he would go to London after the festivities had concluded.

“Will you come to London with me after it is through?” he asked them hopefully. “I must speak with Cameron, and you are welcome at our residence in Town.”

“Oh, London!” said Christina, clapping her hands in delight. “Why, that should be perfect! A wedding and then London? It is heaven.”

Eduardo looked over at Christopher. “And you? It would give you the opportunity to speak with your publisher.”

“That is true,” said Christopher. “And besides, I find myself growing tired of Meryton. A change of environment will be most welcome.”

*  *  *

The journey to Derbyshire took two days. They spent the night in a pleasant inn where Eduardo spent much of the night lying awake. From the sound of Christopher’s breathing in the other bed, he suspected that sleep remained elusive to his friend as well.

Pemberley came into view on Eduardo’s side of the carriage. He peered out at the expansive, elegant grounds, and reflected idly that he could have been the master of this estate, if he had wanted it.

“It is beautiful here,” observed Christina. She jostled Christopher’s knee gently. “Do you not think it is a most pleasant estate?”

“It is indeed very beautiful,” Christopher agreed listlessly. He made no move to look out. “Do you really think it was wise to come here?”

“We were invited,” said Eduardo, who had privately been wondering the same thing. “I had already given my promise to attend.”

“She is only an acquaintance,” said Christopher.

“But she is exceptionally kind.” Eduardo chose not to say that he hoped to prove to Mark that he was not frightened of seeing him. “Come, it will be enjoyable. Perhaps you will meet another gentleman that you will find even more agreeable than –” He broke off guiltily before he could say Dustin's name.

“Perhaps,” agreed Christopher, ignoring the small pause. “Or indeed, I may have the chance to speak with Dustin himself. I feel that we parted ways on poor terms and at the very least, I hope to apologize for my rudeness towards him.”

"I hope you'll be able to mend your relations," said Eduardo sincerely.

"So do I," said Christopher.

The carriage pulled up in front of the manor where they were greeted by Randi and Erica. Erica embraced Christina fondly and greeted Eduardo and Christopher with a smile. Randi beamed at them and said, "It is wonderful to see you again."

"Miss Zuckerberg, may I present Christopher Hughes and Christina Lee?" said Eduardo, gesturing his friends forward.

"It's Randi, I have told you before," Randi said with mild reproach. She curtsied to Christopher and Christina. "Come, you must see the estate; it is most exquisite. After that, I will introduce you to the rest of our guests. All of my sisters are at home, which is a rare occurrence indeed!"

Christina said, "All three of you? Are they as fashionable as you? I must confess that I envy your gown; I have never been able to wear that shade of blue."

The women began to discuss the latest fashions in London, but Eduardo was distracted by the architectural beauty of Pemberley. It was, by far, the most elaborately beautiful estate he had ever visited. Their footsteps echoed against the marble of the entry hall, oddly sombre. Eduardo could not imagine Mark being comfortable in such an antique estate. He thought, though, that he saw traces of Mark's taste in the choice of art, which tended towards the classical. He paused in front of a beautiful depiction of Cupid and Psyche. The rest of the party had disappeared by the time he recalled where he was, and he wandered down the hall, trying to find where they went.

He turned into a small sunlit parlour where a young girl of about sixteen sat with a book on her lap. She started when she saw him, the book falling from her hands. Eduardo hurried to pick it up for her, apologizing profusely.

"My apologies, miss, I did not mean to startle you. Only, I think I am lost," he said. He held the book out to her. "I am Eduardo Saverin."

The girl blinked up at him and smiled. "Oh!" she said. "My sister has spoken of you." She took the book back and added, "I am Arielle.”

“Randi has talked about me?” Eduardo asked in surprise.

“Oh, yes!” Arielle said. “She said that Mark enjoys your company, which is rare enough that it _must_ be remarked upon. She did not mention that you were so handsome, though.”

Eduardo felt himself flush, but he gave her a smile and said, “You share your siblings’ frankness.”

“I know,” sighed Arielle. “Miss Sanberg is always sighing about it. She’s my governess, you see,” she added by way of explanation. “She tells me and Donna that we have been ruined by not being raised in polite society.”

“You seem a perfectly charming young lady to me,” Eduardo said firmly with a small bow. “Now, I must find your sister. I am afraid I have misplaced her.”

“I think she was taking them to the gardens,” Arielle said doubtfully. “But I will go with you! Otherwise you are bound to get lost. I still do.” She set her book aside and leapt to her feet. “Come along.”

Amused by her slightly imperious tone, Eduardo fell into step beside her. She skipped along gaily, pointing out particular items of note. “My brother is fond of the Classics,” she told Eduardo as they passed a painting depicting the Judgement of Paris. “He used to read us the stories when we were younger, until Miss Sanberg told him to stop. They ‘aren’t appropriate for young ladies,’” she mimicked, making a face. Eduardo bit his lip to keep from smiling and nodded gravely.

Arielle led him outside onto the grounds and pointed towards the distant figures of Randi and the others. “There they are,” she told Eduardo. Then her eyes lit on something over his shoulder and she cried, “Mark!”

Eduardo whirled around and saw Mark standing just inside the doorway to the house. Hurriedly, he offered a small bow and said, “Mr Zuckerberg.”

“Eduardo,” said Mark. He looked to his sister and a faint smile crept across his face. “Have you been pestering Eduardo, Arielle?”

“Never!” declared Arielle. “Have I?” she demanded, turning to look imploringly up at Eduardo.

“No, never,” agreed Eduardo, his heart beating rapidly in his chest as he stared into Mark’s impassive face. “She has been most accommodating.”

“I am glad to hear it,” said Mark. “Arielle, go back to what you were doing. I would like to speak with Eduardo.”

Arielle pouted prettily, looking up at her brother imploringly. “But Mark, I was just getting to know him!” she protested.

“Arielle,” Mark said, a note of warning in his voice. Then he softened. “If you do this for me, I promise to distract Miss Sanberg next time you wish to go riding.”

Her eyes lit up in excitement and she clapped her hands. “Do you promise?”

“I promise,” Mark said. “Now go.”

With one last bright smile, Arielle scampered back inside. Mark stepped out so that he was facing Eduardo. As always, it was difficult to tell his emotions from his face, but Eduardo thought he detected the faintest hints of that rare smile.

“I did not think you would come,” Mark said after a moment.

“I like your sister very much,” Eduardo replied. “She invited me; I came.”

“Yes.” Mark took a step closer to Eduardo, looking him over. “You look well.”

“Thank you,” said Eduardo. “So do you.” He looked down, then said, “Excuse me, but I must –”

“You –” Mark started at the same time. They both stopped and looked at each other. Then Mark said, “I don’t suppose you have changed your mind regarding –” He trailed off, not meeting Eduardo’s eyes.

“Regarding your proposal?” asked Eduardo in disbelief. “Do you truly believe I would agree to marry you after you dashed the hopes of my dearest friend? How could you take Dustin away without letting him at least speak to Christopher?”

“I proposed to you before I left Netherfield,” said Mark shortly, his eyes narrowed. “Surely that cannot be the reason for the original refusal.”

“Your proposal was an insult,” snapped Eduardo, growing angry despite himself. “‘Against your better judgment’? Why, a more romantic proposal the world has never heard.”

“You wish for romance?” Mark asked, eyes flashing.

“I do not think it is too much to ask for if you intend to _ask me to marry you_ ,” Eduardo snapped. “You will forgive me if I did not immediately realize that it was meant to be a proposal. I do not believe it is custom to insult your paramour before asking for his hand.”

“It was not intended as an insult,” Mark said.

“I do not know if that is better or worse,” Eduardo said. “Either you intended to insult me, or you simply have such a low opinion of me that it was the highest praise you could bestow.”

Mark went slightly red and coughed. “I do not have the talent of formulating compliments,” he replied. “But – I do admire you. Most ardently. I fail to understand how it has escaped your notice.”

“Perhaps because you have given me no clear indications of your true feelings for me!” exclaimed Eduardo, now flustered and slightly angry.

“You would like me to be clear?” Mark asked, eyes narrowing. “Well, I think you cannot mistake this for anything other than admiration.” He stepped forward, determined, and pulled Eduardo into a shocking kiss.

Eduardo stiffened immediately, startled. Mark’s mouth was firm and sure, but too strong. Eduardo attempted to pull back, but Mark had fastened his hand around Eduardo’s wrist, his other on the back of Eduardo’s neck. After a moment, Mark seemed to relax and he turned his head just a little, capturing Eduardo’s mouth more securely. He wasn’t demanding, just – querying, and Eduardo felt himself sinking into the embrace despite himself, opening his mouth to Mark and letting him take everything he wanted –

Eduardo yanked away, gasping for breath. They stared at each other. Mark’s lips seemed fuller, and his eyes were bright. Eduardo noticed for the first time that they were not dark, as he had supposed, but a rather shocking shade of blue.

“That,” Eduardo said in a voice that was far too breathless for his liking, “was entirely inappropriate, Mr Zuckerberg.”

“I seem to recall asking you to call me Mark,” replied Mark. Eduardo sucked in a startled breath, then fled across the lawn, desperate to escape the tide of emotion threatening to overwhelm him.

He caught up with the others and fell into step next to Christina, who looked at him in surprised and said, “My God, Eduardo, what on earth is the matter? You look as though you have seen a ghost!”

“No ghost,” Eduardo said. “Let us not speak on it.”

She gave him a suspicious look, then began telling Eduardo what Randi had said during his absence. He listened inattentively, his thoughts still focused on Mark’s unexpected expression of affection. He was recalled to the present when Christina rapped his shoulder disapprovingly.

“Are you listening to me at all?” she demanded.

“I’m afraid I am doing a poor job of it,” he admitted sheepishly. “My thoughts are elsewhere, my dear, and for that I apologize.”

“No need for apologies,” Christina said grumpily, “but I feel perfectly ridiculous jabbering at you when it is clear you have no interest in what I am saying.”

They circled back towards the house while Randi pointed out where the wedding celebration would be held. “And oh, it will be beautiful,” Randi declared, clapping her hands together. “Mark has been most generous in what he has allowed.”

She led them back inside and to a larger sitting room where a serious-looking girl with curly dark hair sat, embroidery in her lap. Eduardo surmised that this must be the middle Zuckerberg daughter, a suspicion that was confirmed when Randi said, “And this is my second youngest sister, Donna.”

Donna looked up and nodded politely as Randi introduced their party to her. Christina and Erica detached from the group here to look at the room, and Randi led Christopher and Eduardo into the library. It was a charming library, well-stocked with books on mathematics and mythology. Eduardo, who was watching Christopher closely, saw that Christopher brightened somewhat when he saw the number of volumes on the shelves.

“May I look around?” Christopher asked Randi eagerly.

“Of course!” Randi said. “I’ll take Eduardo to meet my fiance; I believe he is in the study.” She took Eduardo’s arm firmly, booking no argument. Eduardo waved to Christopher, who nodded vaguely; he had already become distracted by a large volume written in French.

Randi’s husband was an attractive man a few years older than her with a warm voice and a deep chuckle. When Randi explained Eduardo’s interest in mathematics, he lit up and began to discuss his experiences with investing in London. Eduardo fell into conversation with him, Randi occasionally offering her input, and forgot all about Mark.

*  *  *

Christopher sank onto the sofa in the library, the volume on history of the French monarchy heavy on his lap. He became engrossed in reading, even more so than usual. It had been a long time since he had dedicated himself to studying French, and he had to concentrate to translate in his head.

He heard the door to the library open, but did not give it much thought until he heard a soft exclamation. He turned and saw Dustin standing in the door, his face white. Christopher half-rose, but Dustin let out another soft groan and fled, the door slamming shut behind him. Christopher sighed and sat down morosely. He found he could no longer concentrate on his reading, so he placed the book back on its shelf and went to see if he could find Eduardo.

He stood in the hall for nearly a minute, trying to decide which way to go. Then, reflecting that he did not know where Randi had taken Eduardo, he made his way back to the parlour where he had left Erica and Christina. He entered the room to find Christina and Erica engaged in a passionate discussion regarding Miss Radcliffe’s latest work. They looked up guiltily at him.

“Do not be embarrassed,” he said, sitting down beside them. “It cannot be denied that her novels are singularly entertaining.”

“But they are far from elevated reading,” remarked Erica. “I feel ashamed to own to enjoying them when I am around the Zuckerbergs. They are all exceptionally well educated.”

Donna, who had been listening in, turned scarlet and muttered her thanks. “I should like to read one of these novels,” she added longingly. “But Mark tells me that they are not becoming for a young lady.”

“Oh, your brother,” said Erica dismissively. “I know for a fact that he read the last one, though he kept it concealed in a copy of the Odyssey.”

Donna’s eyes went wide as saucers. “Really?” she asked.

“Indeed,” Erica said. “And he had very fixed ideas of who the heroine should have married.”

Donna let out a small, nervous giggle. Christina began pestering Erica for more details regarding Mark’s hidden passion for Gothic romances, unable to hide her glee at this piece of gossip. Christopher listened in amusement, trying not to think about how Dustin had fled at the very sight of him.

They were called to dinner about an hour later, and Christopher entered the dining room a half-step behind Erica and Christina. He nearly walked into them when Christina drew up short, an audible gasp issuing from her mouth.

Puzzled, Christopher peered around her and was unable to stop an answering gasp of his own. There, waiting behind one of the seats, was Sean Parker.

“This,” Christina said softly, “is not happening.”

Christopher touched her arm gently. “If you wish to retreat to bed, I will make your excuses,” he told her in an undertone.

Christina threw back her shoulders proudly and said, “I will be fine.” With that, she strode into the room and said, “Hello, Mr Parker.”

“Miss Lee,” said Parker with a smirk. “You look very well.”

“Thank you,” she said graciously. Christopher caught sight of her face and saw that it was set in an expression of firm indifference. “I did not know you were staying at Pemberley.”

“The Zuckerbergs have been kind enough to allow me to stay here while I get my affairs in order,” said Parker.

“How very generous of them,” Christopher said icily. He moved to sit next to Christina and saw that Eduardo had the same thought as he. They flanked her like an honour guard. Out of the corner of his eye, Christopher saw Dustin enter the room with Mark. He steadfastly did not look over even though he itched to get a better look at Dustin’s expression.

“Sit, sit!” cried Randi, who had taken a seat at the head of the table. “We do not stand on formalities around here.”

They all sat down and Christopher was disconcerted to find that he was now seated across from Dustin. He did his best to avoid looking at him and instead turned to introduce himself to the youngest Zuckerberg sister. She asked after his education, seeming fascinated by his studies, and then professed that she wished she could attend university.

“It seems perfectly ridiculous to me that women are not permitted to further their education,” she said, which was something Christopher had thought for many years. Many of the women he knew were far more intelligent than his fellow students at Cambridge. “But I do not know what I would study! There are simply too many fascinating subjects in the world.”

“I agree,” said Christopher. “It took much thought for me to decide upon history as my course; but of course it also gave me reason to read and write as much as I pleased, so I think it was for the best.”

“Have you finished your history of Meryton?” Arielle asked. “Dustin said you were working on one.”

Christopher looked up involuntarily and met Dustin’s gaze. “I have not,” he admitted and saw Dustin flinch. “I have been distracted of late.”

“Oh,” said Arielle, innocent of the tension she had inadvertently caused. “That is a shame. I would love to read it! Perhaps I can help you with your next history and you can teach me some French. Mine is not very good.”

Christopher managed to look away from Dustin and smiled down at her. “It would be my pleasure,” he told her sincerely. When he glanced back up, Dustin had engaged Donna in conversation. He did not look back over at Christopher for the remainder of the meal.

*  *  *

To his dismay, Eduardo found himself seated to Mark’s right. He sat stiffly, his knee bumping against Christina’s under the table. Parker sat across from them, but he was not paying them the least attention. He had instead turned to Erica, who did not seem overly pleased at being his conversation partner. Her lips were pressed into a tight line, but she replied politely enough. Eduardo was dismayed to note that Christopher and Dustin were avoiding each other’s gaze, and his heart sank further as they continued to ignore each other.

Eduardo did not speak, nor did Mark. They ate in silence for almost the whole meal until Mark said abruptly, “It was not my intention to turn Dustin against Christopher.”

His voice was so quiet that Eduardo almost did not hear him. Eduardo turned to look at Mark in surprise. “I beg your pardon?”

“I – was not sure of Christopher’s feelings for Dustin,” Mark said. “I do not – did I truly ruin his happiness when we left Netherfield?”

“Yes,” Eduardo said shortly. “And I do not know what you may have said to Dustin to convince him to leave, but they look perfectly miserable.”

Mark lapsed into silence again and did not say another word to Eduardo for the remainder of the meal. Eduardo engaged Christina in simple, mindless conversation to distract her from Parker’s presence. Once the meal had ended, he retreated with her, Erica, and Christopher to the drawing room where they played whist until Christina declared herself too exhausted to continue.

“And the wedding is tomorrow, after all!” she said. “We should have slept much earlier.”

Erica leapt to her feet and said, “You are most correct in that assertion.” She began shooing everyone up to bed, insisting that they all have a night’s rest before Randi’s wedding. Eduardo went up to the bedroom he was to share with Christopher and fell asleep on the narrow bed not long after.

*  *  *

The day of the wedding dawned bright and clear; a good omen, Erica declared over breakfast. She looked lovelier than usual, her dark hair bound up elegantly and her cheeks flushed with excitement. “I believe it will be a most beautiful ceremony,” she said decisively, looking proudly around the dining room. It, and the adjoining ballroom, had been outfitted with elegant decorations for the occasion. The flower arrangements in particular were exquisite. When Christopher remarked upon them, she blushed prettily and confessed that she had done them herself.

“Indeed?” Christopher asked, momentarily surprised. “I did not know that was one of your hobbies.”

“I have as many hobbies as I can collect,” Erica admitted. “A life of leisure does not really suit me, but I think my mother would weep if I sought out a profession. I do, on occasion, act as governess to Donna and Arielle; but Miss Sanberg is far better suited to it than I and they are getting a little old for instruction.”

Christopher nodded sympathetically, but had nothing with which to console her. He knew very well the kind of ennui that affected her; he had felt it himself when he was not working on a project. It seemed to him that her methods of coping were perhaps better than others, and she seemed to take pleasure in her hobbies.

“Have you ever thought to marry yourself?” he asked her curiously. “I am sure you must have had offers.”

She laughed and said, “You flatter me.” She was quiet for a moment, then confessed, “I was engaged once, when I was younger. He was naval officer, and he was killed at sea not long after. I did like him very much; but I do not know if I could be a sailor’s wife.” She gave Christopher a small smile. “My family has no sons, you see. I am the eldest of four daughters. Dustin has been kind enough to care for me, but it was always their hope that I marry well so I can provide for my sisters. For myself, I wish to marry for love; it is perhaps unfortunate that I am well-acquainted with many couples who share great affection for each other.”

Christopher laid a hand on her wrist and said sincerely, “You will find someone. I am sure of that.”

Erica nodded pensively, then said, “What about Christina? She is evasive whenever I ask her about her attachments. I would have thought she would have dozens of suitors asking for her hand.”

“She suffered...a great disappointment,” he said carefully. “Her chances at an advantageous marriage were taken from her when she was young. She is set to inherit a great sum, but no one will have her. I think she has resigned herself to this fate.”

“She should not have to!” Erica said indignantly. Then her gaze sharpened. “Pray, tell me,” she said slowly, “does her – past have anything to do with Parker?”

Christopher remained quiet, letting his silence speak for him. Erica drew in an affronted gasp and drank her tea with a set expression of anger on her face. When she set the cup down, it rattled ominously.

“I should have known instantly,” she said. “He was most interested in my acquaintance with Dustin. When he learned that I had little money myself, he grew distant. If Christina is to inherit, as you say, then of course he would have pursued her.”

There was more to the story than that, but Christopher was loathe to divulge Christina’s secrets without her permission. He simply nodded in agreement and changed the subject.

The guests began arriving at Pemberley a few hours before noon. Soon the house was full of guests, ranging from London merchants to titled nobles. Christopher’s head was soon reeling from the number of people he had been introduced to, and he soon retreated to a corner of the ballroom. The Duchess of Sussex and her wife soon found him and began to ask after his education. The Lady Sussex had apparently read a thesis Christopher had written at school and was curious as to what he was doing with himself now.

The Duchess gave Christopher an amused smile and said, “Pardon my wife, but she is excessively enthusiastic at times. She convinced me to read your work as well and I must confess that I found it riveting.”

“And she rarely finds any prose that is not fiction interesting in the slightest,” the Lady Sussex said, and so Christopher found himself telling them about his manuscript. He saw Dustin out of the corner of his eye as he was explaining the scope of the history, and he turned a little so he would not have to see him.

The wedding began a little before noon and the guests trooped out to Pemberley’s gardens. A canopy of white linen had been erected on the lawn and its supports were twined with bright flowers. The sun was so bright that it almost hurt Christopher’s eyes. He found his way to Eduardo’s side, and Christina joined them a moment later, looking resplendent in a fine dress of pale violet.

When Randi came down the aisle, he felt a sudden rush of wistfulness. She looked as though she couldn’t be happier, and she fairly radiated contentment as she came to stand beside her fiancé. He could tell that his friends shared in his sudden melancholy. Christina let out a sad sigh when the ceremony began, and Eduardo grew misty-eyed and still.

The ceremony was not too long, and by the time Randi and Brent had been pronounced wife and husband, Christopher was longing to return to the shade of the house. He had only just made it inside when someone grabbed his hand and pulled him off into a parlour. He yanked away from his captor and turned only to see that it was Dustin, looking slightly wild and desperate.

“Christopher,” he said in a tremulous voice. “I – I must apologize for not greeting you properly before now.”

Christopher stared at him, making no attempt to conceal his disbelief. “And you thought now was the time to do it?”

“When else?” asked Dustin. “Everyone else is distracted; we may finally have a moment alone.”

“We could have had one when I first arrived,” Christopher said tartly, “but you fled the room the moment you saw my face. Was the prospect of speaking to me so repulsive?”

“No!” said Dustin, eyes wide. “No, it was simply – frightening. I had not seen you since – well. You know.”

“Yes,” Christopher said coldly, “I do.” He heard no hint of apology in Dustin’s voice, so he felt disinclined to listen to the rest. “If that is all you wished to say, then I must pay my respects to the bride and groom.”

“That is not all!” Dustin exclaimed, flushing red. “I wanted to say how very sorry I am for how we last parted. I had – hoped that we might mend our friendship a bit.”

“Yes, our _friendship_ is so precious,” Christopher muttered. “Fine. You have said it. I will now say that I too wish we had parted on better terms, but perhaps it is for the best.”

Dustin’s chin went up and proud look came into his eye. “For the best?” he said. “How so?”

“You clearly find my friends to be less than desirable company and I think Mr Zuckerberg would not know good manners if they served him tea!” Christopher burst out angrily. “We proved that this differences were enough to change our opinions of one another, did we not? So I say to you, Mr Moskovitz, that it is a pleasure to see you again. I believe we both have niceties to attend to. I realize you were not raised in polite society –”

“Polite society!” exclaimed Dustin angrily. “I am sorry I am no _gentleman_ , Mr Hughes. The benefits of that upbringing seem to have escaped _you_.”

Christopher went breathless with rage and, in lieu of continuing to argue, stalked from the room. He walked through the crowd until he was satisfied that Dustin would be unable to find him. He drank a glass of wine and retreated to the library to avoid the party. He found Donna there, looking grumpy and tired.

“Oh,” Christopher said involuntarily. She looked up and fixed him with a sharp eye. “I can leave, if –”

“I hate parties too,” Donna said, scooting over on the sofa. “No one will look for us here.”

Christopher looked at her, with her face that was so like Mark’s, then he picked up a book and sat down next to her. “Thank you, Miss Zuckerberg,” he said gravely. Donna nodded and returned to reading. Christopher opened his own volume and soon lost himself in the story.

*  *  *

Eduardo quickly lost track of Christopher, but the crowd bore him and Christina to where the bride and groom were receiving congratulations. The new Mrs Tworetzky greeted them happily, smiling widely. She kissed Eduardo’s cheek affectionately and said, “Be a dear and make sure my brother does not terrorize anyone too much?”

“I do not think I am equal to such a task,” Eduardo demurred, slightly alarmed.

“Oh, pish,” said Randi disapprovingly. “Now you are simply being ridiculous. At the very least, distract him so that he is only rude to those who understand that he does not truly mean it.”

Eduardo was so taken aback by her statement that he hardly protested being buffeted towards where Mark stood with Lady Wilby. Mark nodded politely as she talked, but even Eduardo could see that his patience, never in abundant supply, was wearing very thin indeed.

He insinuated himself into their conversation, then said, “I must apologize, Lady Wilby, but I have to speak with Mr Zuckerberg on a matter of business.”

“Oh, of course,” the lady said, and she swept off to find someone else to pester.

Mark visibly relaxed and said, “Every time I see that woman, she asks if I am yet engaged. Two daughters and a son whose interests run towards men and all of them unmarried. And I am supposed to be grateful at the chance of marrying someone titled.”

“Many people would leap at such a chance,” Eduardo observed dryly, though he had to admire Mark’s dedications to his principles. “But you seem to delight in running against the norm.”

Mark stared at Eduardo for a long moment. His gaze dipped down to Eduardo’s mouth, and Eduardo flushed, remembering all too well the feeling of Mark’s lips against his. “I do,” Mark admitted after a moment. Eduardo struggled to remember the topic of their earlier conversation, his thoughts fragmenting. “I prize the exceptional.”

“Indeed,” Eduardo managed, embarrassingly breathless. “I would expect nothing less.”

“That is why I admire you so,” Mark said without the faintest trace of self-consciousness.

Eduardo sucked in a startled breath and looked around to see if anyone had overheard this. He beckoned Mark into a secluded nook and said, “You should not say such things.”

“Why on earth not?” demanded Mark. “It is nothing but the truth.”

“I am to marry Cameron Winklevoss,” Eduardo said in a cold undertone, fighting his urge to blush anew at Mark’s words. “So I would appreciate it if you would cease declaring your affections.”

“Has he made you an offer?” asked Mark, eyes narrowed. “I asked him not to.”

“And thank you very much for that,” Eduardo said, voice heavy with sarcasm. “I do not suppose it occurred to you that I might have to explain that to my father.”

“You do not need to marry him simply because your father asks,” said Mark.

“That is easy for you to say,” said Eduardo. “Why, you could marry any eligible lady or gentleman that caught your fancy. It is not as simple for the rest of us. I must marry someone who can elevate my family’s status and offer me a comfortable future.”

Mark took his hand, surprisingly gentle. Eduardo startled and looked down, flushing. It had been ages since anyone had pursued Eduardo for the sake of it, and Eduardo had never been courted with quite so much tenacity. Cameron and Eduardo had never pretended that they felt anything but friendship for each other. To be the focus of someone else’s firm affections was – intoxicating, even if the person in question was Mark Zuckerberg.

“You deserve better than that,” Mark said softly. His voice was firm and fierce, and his grip tightened as he spoke. “You should be able to marry for love, not to restore your family’s name and fortune.”

“I like Cameron well enough,” Eduardo said. “I would not suffer as his husband.”

“I am sure he would be kind,” said Mark. “Cameron prides himself on being a gentleman. But you deserve happiness, not complacency.”

“And you think you can offer me happiness?” Eduardo asked, a little irritated by the assumption.

“I think we are better suited to each other than you are to Cameron Winklevoss,” said Mark.

“What leads you to that conclusion?” asked Eduardo. “All we ever do is argue.”

“Which proves there is deep feeling on both sides,” Mark said defiantly. “We never run out of conversation.”

Eduardo swallowed. “That is not a reason for a marriage,” he said softly.

Seemingly unable to stop himself, Mark raised Eduardo’s hand to his lips. “It should be,” he said, his breath warm against Eduardo’s knuckles.

Eduardo stared at Mark, at his bright eyes and stern face, and felt an unfamiliar stirring in his chest. “Mark,” he stuttered, his thoughts scattered. “This is – I am practically engaged.”

“But you are still unattached,” Mark said stubbornly. “And you have not asked me to stop.”

He had a point. Eduardo couldn’t quite bring himself to tell Mark to let go, though, and they stood there, Eduardo’s hand in Mark’s, until the string quartet in the ballroom started up and the guests began to file onto the dance floor.

“Will you dance with me?” Mark asked Eduardo. “I greatly enjoyed our last.”

“You did?” Eduardo looked at Mark in astonishment. “You did not seem to.”

“The company more than the actual activity,” Mark said. He bowed over Eduardo’s hand. “May I have the honour?”

To his own great surprise, Eduardo said, “Yes.”

Mark smiled suddenly, and it changed his face so pleasantly that Eduardo’s heart started in his chest. “You will have to indulge my ignorance,” he said, leading Eduardo by the hand into the ballroom.

“You were passable last time,” said Eduardo as he took his place on the floor. “You must have learned by example.”

Mark looked down, still smiling, and in the corner, the musicians started up. Eduardo stepped forward, but as he did, he heard a familiar voice raised in anger. He turned, searching for the source, and saw Christina standing in the corner, her face scarlet as she argued with Parker. Forgetting Mark, Eduardo bolted across the room to her side.

“Christina, is everything all right?” he asked, glaring at Parker.

“We were just – renewing our acquaintance,” said Parker with a small smile.

“I asked you never to speak to me again,” Christina hissed. “You have _destroyed_ my life, are you not content with that?”

“My dear, it was never my intention to –” Parker began, his hand over his heart.

“Your intentions do not matter!” Eduardo snapped, curling one hand protectively around Christina’s arm. “You are no gentleman, sir, and you should be ashamed of yourself.”

“You wound me,” Parker said. “I have only the most honourable of intents. I wished to offer my apologies to Miss Lee.”

“Your apologies are thin and far too late,” Christina spat, seemingly unconscious of the attention they were drawing. “I would have appreciated them three years ago, when I was owed them.”

Parker frowned and opened his mouth to speak again, but Erica arrived to rescue them with a charming smile and a firm hand. She escorted Parker from the ballroom and Eduardo took Christina away to find Christopher.

As Eduardo had expected, Christopher was in the library. Christina collapsed next to him and sighed, “I am glad we are leaving tomorrow morning. The distraction of London will be most welcome.” She covered her eyes with a shaking hand.

“What on earth happened?” asked Christopher, plainly startled. “Was it Parker?”

“It was,” said Eduardo. He then noticed Donna sitting on the couch demurely, her unnervingly precocious gaze fixed on him disapprovingly. “Pardon, Miss Zuckerberg, I did not see you there. We will take our conversation into the hall.”

“Oh, no,” said Donna crisply, getting to her feet. “I imagine my sister is looking for me. She made me promise to dance at least once,” she added sourly. She set her book back on the shelf, made a slightly wobbly curtsey, and exited the room.

“She is very much like her brother,” Christopher observed. This roused Christina from her brown study, and she looked up at Eduardo.

“You were speaking alone with him,” she said sharply. “I noticed you, before Sea – before Parker cornered me. And he asked you to dance again? I thought you were determined to turn him down.”

Eduardo felt himself flush; he didn’t want to share his conversation with Mark. It felt private, even though earlier he had thought nothing of divulging every detail of Mark’s proposal to him. “I –” he stuttered, trying to recover his balance. “He made a very compelling argument,” he said finally, though that wasn’t particularly true.

Judging by the looks on his friends’ faces, they didn’t believe him in the slightest. Eduardo blushed harder and said, “It is no matter! I think that our trip to London could not come sooner. Clearly we are all in need of some distraction.”

“Have you spoken to Dustin?” Christina asked Christopher softly as his face turned slightly stormy.

“Yes,” he said shortly. “It was not – I think it was for the best that he left.”

“Oh, Christopher,” she sighed and the three of them sat in the library while the wedding party continued, united in emotional turmoil.

*  *  *

The wedding celebrations continued well into the evening, though the guests began to leave after dinner. Eduardo ventured into the dining room to claim food for him and his friends, avoiding Mark’s gaze, and the three of them retreated to bed not long after.

It was, Eduardo admitted, a cowardly response, but he was not ready to deal with the feelings that Mark had aroused in him. Eduardo had agreed, however tacitly, to marry Cameron Winklevoss, and he was determined to make his father happy. Still too, there were his friends to consider. So long as Mark remained friends with Dustin and Parker, Eduardo could not in good conscience unite himself with him. He could never put his own happiness above theirs.

In the morning, they readied themselves for the long journey to London. Randi and her new husband were still abed, but the remainder of the Zuckerberg household was at breakfast when Eduardo came downstairs. He said a cordial good morning to Arielle and Donna, a slightly more aloof greeting to Mark and Dustin, and offered only a nod to Parker. He drank his tea while he waited for the other members of his party. Christina passed Parker without so much as a glance of acknowledgement, while Christopher and Dustin stared at each other for far too long before looking away with the clearing of throats.

Eduardo engaged Arielle in a pleasant and innocuous discussion of the wedding so that the silence would stop being quite so oppressive. It was difficult, as the other people at the table were all deep in their own thoughts, but he thought they did well enough.

Randi and her husband came down late, dressed and smiling widely. They hardly strayed more than an arm’s distance away from each other, clearly unwilling to leave their new partner’s side. Eduardo smiled involuntarily, charmed by their obvious affection for each other.

“Good morning,” Randi said cheerfully to Eduardo. “It’s fine weather for your journey; you should make good time.”

“I hope so,” Eduardo agreed, relieved to have another conversation partner. “We have all been looking forward to visiting London.”

Mark’s head snapped up, his face going pale. “London?” he asked faintly.

“Yes,” said Christina with a slightly malicious smile on her face. “So many people to see! And of course, Eduardo has some unfinished business to take care of.”

Mark abruptly got to his feet, the chair scraping against the floor. Randi winced. “Eduardo,” he said, looking straight at him. “May I speak to you in private?”

Eduardo gave Christina a reproving look, but he stood and followed Mark out of the dining room. Mark strode purposefully without looking back and brought them into the study. He closed the door after Eduardo had entered and said, “London?”

“Yes, London,” said Eduardo, holding his head high. “I intend to marry Cameron Winklevoss and I would appreciate it if you did not try to sabotage my engagement once again.”

Mark took a half-step towards Eduardo. “Still – even after everything? I thought perhaps you –” He broke off, sounding lost.

“I cannot marry you,” Eduardo said, swallowing. “You are – it would bring unhappiness to my friends and my father has worked very hard to make this marriage possible. To refuse now would be inconceivable.”

“You seem to place a great deal of consideration on your _father’s_ desires,” Mark said with a slight sneer. “Have you no mind of your own?”

“And this,” Eduardo said furiously, “is why I will not accept you! You claim affection, and yet you offer me only insults!”

“I have paid you a great many compliments!” protested Mark, turning red.

“Nearly all of them conditional!” Eduardo stepped forward and prodded Mark in the chest. “You may think me desirable, Mr Zuckerberg, but you cannot seem to make up your mind about me. Do you believe me to be your match? Or do you simply like finding fault in me?”

“Why can it not be both?” demanded Mark.

“You are impossible!” Eduardo exploded, shoving at Mark’s shoulders. “One day, you are all kindness, telling me that I am _exceptional_ , and the next you accuse me of having no mind of my own!”

“I should say the same of you!” snarled Mark. “You are receptive to my advances one moment and then I am _abandoned_ while you run to the side of your darling Christina. Perhaps it is _her_ you would be marrying, if her reputation was not so sullied!”

“Her reputation would not be ‘sullied,’ as you put it, if it were not for the machinations of your new friend Mr Parker!” Eduardo replied, furious. “You have spoken so frequently out of ignorance and you should know the kind of man you keep in your house. He is the _worst_ kind of scoundrel. He made her all sorts of promises, asked her for money so that he could set up a house for them in the countryside, courted her despite the objections of her family, and then, when she began to be suspicious, convinced her to elope with him – bringing, of course, items they could sell to furnish their new life together..”

Eduardo swallowed hard, remembering. “She gave him everything. Her love, her trust – and once they arrived at Gretna Green, he abandoned her there, absconding with her belongings and leaving her to the mercies of anyone who might find her. She tried to end her own life, Mark. She set her room ablaze and was nearly lost. She spent _six months_ in a hospital, recovering. And after, she was heartbroken and poor – and she was no longer desirable to any man. This is what he does! Christina was nothing more than a victim and if I could love any woman in a romantic way, I would marry her instantly so she could have the happiness she so richly deserves.”

He fell silent, breathing hard. Mark had gone so pale that he seemed in danger of fainting. He stumbled back from Eduardo and said in a hoarse voice, “I had – no idea.”

“Of course not,” Eduardo snapped scathingly. “You never cared to ask. You, like everyone, took Parker’s word that she is nothing more than a common whore. Now please get out of my way.”

Mark moved aside without comment. Eduardo opened the door and stepped out. He looked back over his shoulder at Mark’s shocked face and said, “If I were you, I would send Parker from this house before he has the chance to try another venture.”

Mark nodded jerkily, like a marionette, and Eduardo turned and left, intending to leave Pemberley behind forever.

*  *  *

When Eduardo returned from his conversation with Mark, his face was drawn and set. Christopher hastily got to his feet, Christina copying him. “I think we will be departing now,” Eduardo said through clenched teeth.

“So soon?” Arielle asked, dismayed. “Oh, I shall miss you. I like having so many people here.”

Randi sighed sadly. “It is sad to see you leave,” she confessed. “But thank you very much for coming to my wedding! It was lovely to see you again.”

“And you,” Eduardo said politely. Christopher ignored them and watched Dustin, hoping for some sort of sign. But Dustin did not look up from his plate, not even as they said their farewells.

Now feeling very low, Christopher went to gather his luggage to take to the carriage. To his surprise, Dustin was waiting in the entry hall with Randi and her husband, though he still would not meet Christopher’s eyes.

Christopher embraced Randi and once again offered his congratulations. She kissed his cheek and told him he would always be welcome. “And the same goes to you, Christina,” she said, with all apparent sincerity. “I enjoyed your company.”

“It was a beautiful wedding,” Christina said warmly. “I will write you from London.”

Christopher turned to see that Dustin had bent to pick something off the ground. With a jolt of alarm, Christopher recognized it as the handkerchief he had inadvertently kept after his ill-fated dinner at Netherfield. He had been carrying it in his pocket, as a sort of talisman. He had tried on several occasions to simply throw it in the fire, but every time, something had stayed his hand. He waited, breathless and terrified, as Dustin turned it over with shaking fingers.

Finally, Dustin looked up, his eyes wide. He stared at Christopher, his lips moving soundlessly, and then said, “I –”

“You may have it back,” Christopher blurted out. “I have – I have no more need of it.”

For a moment, Dustin looked as though Christopher had slapped him again. Then he regrouped, settling his shoulders, lifting his chin proudly. “I – it was a – it was nice to see you,” Dustin said, his voice trembling only a little. “I’m – I hope you find all the happiness you deserve.”

Christopher stared at him, heart pounding in his chest. “Thank you,” he said after a moment. “Same to you.”

Dustin nodded once, then turned and walked back into the house, his hand clenched tight around the handkerchief. Christopher watched him go, almost forgetting that they were supposed to be leaving. Then Eduardo touched his shoulder, saying, “Christopher?”

“We should be on our way,” Christopher said, turning away quickly and swallowing hard against the grief rising in his throat. “We have already delayed longer than we intended.”

“Are you sure you do not wish to speak to him?” Eduardo asked, sounding concerned.

Christopher straightened to his full height, determined not to be affected by the farewell implied by Dustin’s words. “No,” he said firmly. “We have said all that needed to be said. It is over.” He caught a look of profound regret on Eduardo’s face. “It is no matter,” he said impatiently. “I will be fine, Eduardo.”

Christina and Eduardo exchanged looks that he pretended not to see. “Very well,” Eduardo said finally. “You are correct, we should have left already.”

The three of them left the house and climbed into their carriage. Christopher chanced only one last look at the estate and saw a figure in an upper storey window; but they were too far away for him to see it clearly.

Christopher did his best not to dwell, but the journey to London was long and they had little by way of entertainment. Christina, for lack of anything better to do, began to recount fairytales she had loved as a child, and Christopher countered with his own versions of the tales. They passed most of the first day of travel thus, Eduardo only occasionally having input, as his father had not believed in telling his son fanciful children’s stories.

When they did finally arrive in London on the third day, the three of them separated, relieved to have some time to themselves. Christopher secluded himself in the room Eduardo had designated as his and took out his manuscript. It was nearly finished, and he had an appointment with his publisher three days from then. For the first time since Dustin had left Netherfield, Christopher felt energized to finish. He bent low over his paper and began to write.

*  *  *

The first thing Eduardo did after settling himself back in his room in London was to pen a note to Cameron Winklevoss, notifying of him return to Town and inviting him and his brother to dine. He folded it up and hesitated. Then he set his mouth in a thin line, ignoring the memory of Mark saying, _You deserve love_ , and went down to send a servant with the note.

The next day, Christina dragged Eduardo out with her so she could buy a new dress. “It has been ages since I had a new gown,” she said, frowning at a window display. “And Christopher has locked himself in the study, so you will have to help me find one.”

“I am honoured,” Eduardo said dryly. “I think that colour would look very well on you.”

“It is awfully bright,” she said doubtfully. Then she brightened. “But I suppose that I have little to lose in wearing it. Come, let us see what they are asking.”

To Eduardo’s lack of surprise, Christina bought more than one dress and insisted on him buying a silk cravat that she claimed would make Cameron fall to his knees. “He will _beg_ you to marry him,” she declared, holding it up against his face. “You are already so handsome.”

Eduardo said, “I don’t think one scrap of fabric will sway him in either direction.”

Christina ignored him and went to purchase the cravat. Once she had, she knotted it around his neck and pronounced him ready to be engaged.

When they arrived back at Eduardo’s home, Christopher had emerged from the study, looking triumphant. “It is finished!” he announced brightly. “I have finally finished!”

“That is excellent news!” said Eduardo, picking up the envelope sitting on the dining table. It was addressed to him. He opened it and skimmed the note, then said, “The Winklevosses will be coming to dine with us tomorrow evening.”

“Oh!” said Christina. “Well, then it is a good job I bought you that cravat. You must make a good impression.”

“This marriage is almost certain,” pointed out Eduardo. “I don’t think I need to worry.”

“Still, you ought to look your best.” Christina took the note from his hands. “Oh, Eduardo, this is so wonderful. Perhaps this will finally satisfy your father.”

“I can only hope so,” Eduardo said dully. He knew that Cameron was by far the best offer he would receive, what with his impeccable bloodline and considerable wealth, and they got along just fine. Perhaps their marriage would not be one of great passion, he thought, but he could be content with him.

“Are you rethinking the match?” Christopher asked shrewdly, his eyes narrowed as he observed Eduardo’s face.

“No!” Eduardo said, a bit too loudly to be convincing. “No,” he said again, this time more quietly. “I am – I am not.”

“Because it seemed to me that Mr Zuckerberg holds a great deal –” Christopher continued.

“No!” Eduardo snapped. “He is nothing more than a rude, assuming man and I will _not_ speak of him again.”

“Very well,” Christopher said, unperturbed. “As long as you are happy, my friend.”

Their supper with the Winklevosses came altogether too soon. Christina spent most of the day trying to make the sitting room presentable, and she adjusted Eduardo’s cravat at least five times until Eduardo convinced her to sit down.

“I am just nervous for you,” she admitted sheepishly. “Tonight could change the rest of your life.”

Christopher gave Eduardo an amused look, but Eduardo knew she was right. Tonight, his father’s years of planning would finally come to fruition, and Eduardo could finally say that he had helped the family name.

Eduardo’s valet came in and said, “A Mr Winklevoss and a Mr Winklevoss to see you, sir.” He bowed and withdrew. The three of them rose to their feet automatically as Cameron and Tyler walked into the room, shoulder to shoulder.

“Eduardo,” Cameron said warmly, reaching out to clasp Eduardo’s hand. “You look very well.”

Christina gave him a triumphant look. Eduardo thanked him and then added, “May I present my close friends? Miss Christina Lee and Mr Christopher Hughes.”

To Eduardo’s private amusement, Tyler seemed enchanted by Christina, who was wearing her new green dress, and he monopolized her attention throughout dinner. Christopher thankfully helped defuse the sense of inevitability hanging over Cameron and Eduardo by asking Cameron about his hobbies.

Eduardo ate very little; he found that his appetite had vanished. He waited with awful anticipation through the courses of the meal, doing his best to participate in conversation. He wasn’t sure how successful he was, as Christopher kept glancing over at him with a worried expression, and Cameron asked him if he was feeling well at least three times.

When the meal was finally over, Cameron rose to his feet, straightening his clothing with the kind of unconscious naturalness of someone who always wanted to look his best. “Eduardo,” he said, bowing his head slightly. “May I speak to you in private?”

Christina beamed at Eduardo and mouthed, Good luck!

“Yes,” Eduardo said, also standing. “We can use my study.” He led the way, his heart beating hard against his ribs. He shut the door behind them and the two of them stood in the dimly lit room, not meeting each other’s eyes.

“I –” Eduardo began, just as Cameron said, “We both –”

They both stopped. Cameron laughed nervously and said, “Eduardo, you know I like you very much. It is our fathers’ dearest wish that we would be able to unite our two families.”

“I am well aware of that,” Eduardo agreed. He thought he could hear a door slam out in the main part of the residence, but he ignored it. “It is my desire, too.”

“We – I know that we are not – but I think we could be friends,” Cameron said earnestly. “You are a very kind and I like your friends very much.”

Eduardo was distracted, though. He could hear the sound of raised voices now, then the sound of footsteps. He frowned, taking a step towards the study door – and then it was flung open as Mark Zuckerberg came storming inside, looking completely dishevelled. “Eduardo?” he said, looking around.

A moment later, Eduardo’s valet arrived hot on Mark’s heels. “Mr Saverin,” he said breathlessly, “I tried to stop him, but he just pushed his way in –”

“It is quite all right, Joshua,” Eduardo said. “You can – go.” He turned to glare at Mark, who was staring at Cameron darkly. “What the _devil_ do you think you’re doing?”

“I came to speak to you and thought – but the Winklevoss’s valet told me they had come here to dine,” Mark said, as if this were an explanation. “Am I too late?”

“Too late for what?” demanded Eduardo.

“To stop you from accepting him!” Mark exclaimed. He stepped closer to Eduardo, now ignoring Cameron. “Please, listen to me.”

Eduardo chanced a glance at Cameron, who was watching the proceedings with a bemused look. “You have had your chance to make your case, Mr Zuckerberg,” he said coldly. “If you would be so kind as to leave, Cameron and I were having a private conversation.”

“I will not let you marry him!” said Mark passionately. “Eduardo, I cannot let you do this.”

“Mark,” snapped Eduardo, temper breaking, “I thought I told you I would be marrying Cameron whether you liked it or not!”

“Should I leave?” Cameron asked hesitantly, looking between the two of them.

“No!” Eduardo said, panicking slightly at the thought of losing yet another chance to secure himself a marriage.

“Yes,” Mark said at the same instant, his forehead creasing into a frown.

“I think I had better let you have your conversation,” Cameron said, moving toward the door.

“Cameron –” Eduardo said pleadingly, seeing his father’s favour slip further from his grasp.

“I will be outside,” Cameron said. He bowed and left the room, closing the door behind him.

Eduardo whirled on Mark. “How _dare_ you!” he hissed, advancing upon him. “Have I given you _any_ indication that I would welcome this?”

“Yes!” said Mark. “You were quite receptive towards my attentions at Pemberley; what has changed?”

“Do you wish me to outline your faults?” demanded Eduardo. “First on the list is your friendship with Parker –”

“Oh, I told him to leave the day you departed,” Mark said impatiently. “I cannot abide liars. Give me a reason, Eduardo, one reason that does not involve your father or your friends.”

“Mark,” Eduardo said, deflating slightly, “this is – you should not be here.”

“But I love you,” Mark said, uncomprehendingly. “I have made it clearer than – than anything in my life.”

“I am sure one day you will find someone else to love,” Eduardo said. “There are many beautiful young ladies and gentlemen in the world. One or two of them must be accomplished enough to deserve your hand.”

“Oh, I do not care about any of them!” Mark burst out, snatching Eduardo’s hand in his. “I have – you are so much more than I thought upon first meeting you and though I know I should marry someone who may continue the family line, I would let my sisters’ children inherit all just for the chance to spend one day with you.”

“Mark!” said Eduardo, astonished. “I ask that you stop, please! I – I _must_ marry Cameron, why can you not see that?”

“Because I know you care for me!” Mark cried. To Eduardo’s utter astonishment, he dropped to his knees. “I would do anything for you, Eduardo. You have bewitched me entirely.”

“I,” Eduardo said weakly, “I am – that is, you – _why must you make this so difficult?_ ”

“Because I cannot lose you forever,” said Mark. “Please, I know – you nearly said as much.”

“I – do sometimes like you,” Eduardo said reluctantly. Mark pressed his face to Eduardo’s thigh, and Eduardo could feel that he was trembling, no doubt from the exertion of his emotions. Despite himself, he let one hand settle down on the top of Mark’s head. “Mark.”

“Please,” Mark said, turning his face up towards Eduardo’s. “At least give me the chance to make my case.”

“Very well. Do get up, you look ridiculous.” Eduardo stepped back as Mark stood. Mark’s cheeks were flushed red, but his eyes were fixed steadily upon Eduardo’s face, as though he couldn’t look enough. Eduardo felt overcome with the heady feeling of being wanted. “You – you sent Parker away?”

“I did,” Mark said immediately. “Just before I left for London. I told him to pack his bags and to leave my house. You would not lie to me about something so serious, and he did not deny it.”

Eduardo thought about Mark’s sharp gaze, his searing intelligence – the touch of his lips – and came to an impossibly foolish decision. “I will not marry Cameron now,” he said. When Mark opened his mouth to speak, he held up a finger. “But if you have not convinced me in one year’s time that you and I are more suited to each other, then I will see if he is still willing to marry me.”

Mark’s eyes lit with joy. “I shall endeavour to sway you,” he said. He took Eduardo’s hand and kissed his fingers gently, gaze never leaving Eduardo’s face. “Thank you for your consideration.”

Eduardo felt his face heat, but he did not pull away. “You may call on me tomorrow,” he said, “if you wish.”

“I do,” Mark said. “I will see you then.” He withdrew, then exited into the hall.

Eduardo stood alone in the study, heart pounding and his hands shaking with nerves. He could not imagine what his father’s reaction to the news would be. He would not be pleased by Eduardo marrying a member of the _nouveau riche_ – nor would he be overjoyed by the disruption of his careful plans.

Once he thought he had sufficiently recovered himself, Eduardo stepped out of the study. Cameron was standing in the hall, a small, sad smile on his face.

“I suppose you are going to tell me that you cannot marry me,” he said quietly.

Eduardo bit his lip. He had not thought that Cameron would be too upset by the news, but he saw now that he might have been mistaken. “Cameron,” he said, “I – I did not mean to –”

Cameron cut him off by holding up his hand. “Eduardo, it is clear to me that you and Mark have – a connection. I am not going to step between the two of you.” He smiled suddenly. “I think it will be for the best.”

“You will find someone,” Eduardo said with conviction. “And I will always consider you a friend.”

“I thank you for that,” said Cameron, smile growing wider. “And I wish you luck with Mark; he has been almost pleasant since he met you.”

Eduardo felt himself flush and he thanked Cameron hurriedly, escorting him to the door. Tyler joined them a moment later, looking amused.

“I suppose I will not be calling you my brother,” he said regretfully. “Though I do hope to see you again.” He looked over his shoulder at Christina, who giggled and fanned her face.

“Thank you for coming by,” Eduardo said. “Please – let me be the one to tell my father?”

“Of course,” Cameron said. He reached out and squeezed Eduardo’s shoulder. “I promise you, we will do everything you can to be sure that he understands this is for the best.”

“I appreciate that,” Eduardo said. “Good evening.” They made their farewells and Eduardo shut the door behind the twins. He turned and saw that Christopher and Christina were staring at him with matching expressions of astonishment.

“So?” prompted Christina. “What did Mr Zuckerberg say?”

“He – he loves me,” Eduardo said, and he tried to flee upstairs. Christina caught his hand, pulling him back.

“No, you cannot leave it at that!” she exclaimed. “Come, tell us what he said.”

So Eduardo sat and recounted for them what Mark had told him, his face hot with embarrassment. When he had finished, his friends sat silent for a long moment.

“My God,” Christopher said faintly. “He must truly love you to make such a bold declaration without being sure of a response.”

“I – do not know what to say to him,” Eduardo confessed. “I do – I like him much better now than I did when we first met. But love?”

“Oh, Eduardo,” sighed Christina, patting his hand, but she did not say anything else.

“What will your father say?” asked Christopher, frowning.

Eduardo’s stomach lurched uncomfortably at the thought. “I doubt he will be pleased,” he said. “But it is too late for that. I promised Mark I would give him a chance.”

“Do you think –” Christopher started. Christina cleared her throat, and he cut himself off with an apologetic smile.

Before Eduardo could ask what he had been about to say, Christina distracted him by asking if Tyler was courting anyone. She seemed inordinately interested in the matter, and Eduardo hoped only that Tyler would not break her heart. He was not sure that she would be able to deal with disappointment for a second time.

*  *  *

Christopher had two meetings with his publisher scheduled for his visit to London. During the first, he met his editor for the first time, a competent and businesslike man named Divya Narendra. The two of them went through the manuscript, picking out parts that could be excised if the need arose and marking spots that would need the most checks.

“I think we can have this done quickly,” he said briskly. “It will be slightly rushed – you took a long time to complete this.”

“I had some personal –” Christopher started to say, but Divya waved his excuses away impatiently.

“It is no matter. You are finished now and you will be returning to Meryton soon, yes?” Divya looked at Christopher curiously. “I suppose we can send this to you there. You are coming back in two days’ time, so I will look at it between now and then and make as many corrections as I can so we can discuss it then.”

“That sounds perfect,” said Christopher. “Thank you so much.”

“It is an excellent work,” Divya said. “I have read the excerpts you sent previously. It will be an honor for us to publish this.”

“Thank you,” Christopher said fervently. “It is an honour to be published.”

Divya’s mouth quirked up in a slight smile. “I am delighted to hear it. I will see you in two days.”

Divya was much more enthused when Christopher returned for his second meeting. “You are a very good writer,” he said. “I think we are close to publishing. There are very few mistakes and it seems to be meticulously researched. It makes my job much easier.”

“I am glad to help,” Christopher said.

“I had a few questions, though,” said Divya, and he opened the manuscript to show Christopher something.

By the time they had finished discussing the changes that needed to be made, it was getting late in the day. But Christopher felt elated; he finally felt as though he was truly finished. He returned home in a good mood, determined to share his happiness with his friends. To his surprise, he found Mark Zuckerberg pacing the floor of the parlour, looking angry. Eduardo was pale-faced and nervous, and Christina was nowhere to be seen.

“Christopher!” said Eduardo, getting to his feet. “Oh, thank the Lord.”

“Good Lord, Eduardo,” said Christopher in shock. “What on earth is the matter?”

Eduardo looked as though he was struggling with words for a moment before he gave up attempting to speak and instead threw a letter at Christopher. Christopher took it and began reading. He could feel the blood drain from his face as he skimmed its contents.

_Mark,  
I write to you in all haste, for I cannot in good conscience allow this continue any further. Sean Parker has not vacated Pemberley, though you have asked him to leave, and I distrust his motives._

_It was clear to me that he sought your favour when he first arrived, but when it became obvious that you were not receptive, he was forced to transfer his attentions to another. In this case, he chose me. I dislike him very much, as I have told you before, and I made my opinion of him clear. I have kept your sisters away from him, as I do not think it proper for girls of such tender age to be around a militia man, so he has been unable to woo them._

_He has now set his eye on Dustin, who has been so despondent since leaving Netherfield that I am afraid he may do something foolish. Dustin has been allowing Mr Parker to make him outlandish promises about some ‘project’ of his despite my warnings. I believe he has been convinced to invest in a venture while the money will go straight into Mr Parker’s pocket. If you do not put a stop to this, he will make a mistake that will ruin him forever._

_I must beg you to make all haste to Pemberley. I know you have business in London, but you must not allow that to keep you._

_Erica_

“Oh Lord,” said Christopher when he had finished. “He intends to siphon away Dustin’s fortune for one of his mad ventures.”

“I am going to stop him,” said Mark firmly. “I don’t know if he intends to seduce Dustin for his fortune as he did – as he has done before, or if he simply means to trick Dustin into giving him money, but I am going to Pemberley. Will you accompany me?”

“Of course!” Christopher said hotly, seeing red at the thought of Parker taking advantage of Dustin.

“Christina and I will follow you,” Eduardo said. He embraced Christopher briefly. “I will bring your belongings, do not concern yourself with that.”

“Thank you,” Christopher said fervently, and he went with Mark to secure himself a horse.

They rode hard to Pemberley, but it still took them almost a full day to reach the estate. Christopher had no idea what he would do once they arrived, but he swore to himself that he would no longer hold back on anyone’s account – Parker needed to be brought down.

Erica greeted them at the door, her eyes wide. “Oh, Mark,” she said in a loud whisper. “I have – been so worried! It is so hard to tell what his intentions are, but Dustin has already promised him one thousand.”

“Fool,” muttered Mark, but he looked worried. “Where are they?”

“The salon,” said Erica. She spotted Christopher. “Oh, thank the Lord,” she said. “Please tell me you are going to end his misery. He has been pining.”

“He has?” Christopher asked with a pang of guilt.

“Oh, he is insufferable about you,” said Mark impatiently, “but that is not important right now. Come, Christopher, we will have words with Mr Parker.”

Erica and Christopher fell into step behind Mark, who strode angrily through the halls of Pemberley. Christopher was suddenly nervous, his heart hammering in his throat. Would Dustin be happy to see him? Angry? Did he, perhaps, want to be with Parker now? Christopher knew that Parker’s tastes lay with women, but he also did not doubt that Parker would seduce Dustin with the intent of laying claim to his fortune.

Mark pushed open the doors to the salon and barked, “Mr Parker!”

Parker, who was seated next to Dustin, sprang to his feet with a guilty look on his face. “Mark,” he said, trying a smarmy smile. “I had not expected you back so soon.”

“Clearly,” Mark said, voice dripping with disdain. “I believe I asked you to leave my home.”

“Oh, but surely you cannot begrudge me the time to gather my –” Sean started.

“You have had nearly a week to leave,” Mark snapped. “And you are still here. I do not appreciate this blatant lack of respect for my wishes.”

“Mark,” said Dustin in a small voice from the sofa.

“No,” said Mark, holding up his hand. “Mr Parker, you will leave this house and you will never bother my family again.”

“And,” Christopher put in, “you will _apologize_ to Christina for what you put her through and you will stay away from us.”

Parker’s eyebrows went up. “Mr Hughes,” he said dryly, “I did not see you there. I fail to see how you have the right to order me to do anything.”

Now truly infuriated, Christopher stepped forward and slapped Sean across the face. “I have every right,” he said in a low voice. “I am your better in every conceivable way; so is Mark and so is Dustin. You do not deserve to be their friend. If you object to my treatment of you, I will be more than happy to challenge you to a duel. Moreover, I will leave you to Christina’s tender mercies; and you know how good she is with fire.”

Parker paled at that. “I –” he said, looking at Mark, then at Dustin. “I am not – you are –”

“If you would like to duel,” Christopher said furiously, beginning to take off his jacket, “I am sure Mark would gladly be my second.”

“With pleasure,” Mark said with malice in his voice. He took Christopher's jacket from him and smiled with no trace of amusement.

“Dustin,” Parker said, turning to plead his case. “Surely you will not let them treat me this way.”

Dustin’s gaze moved from Mark to Christopher. His eyes lingered for a moment on Christopher's face; and then he stood, straightening his shoulders.

“I think it would be best if you left,” he said, voice only shaking a very slight bit. “They seem firmly set on seeing you gone.”

Parker gaped, stunned. He regrouped after a moment and said tightly, “Very well. I will see myself out.”

“I will be sure he leaves,” Mark said in a low voice, and he followed Parker from the room, throwing Christopher's jacket over the sofa as he went. Erica smiled tremulously at Christopher, although she looked quite shaken, and she closed the doors behind her, leaving Christopher and Dustin alone.

“I –” Christopher said, walking towards Dustin. “I hope I was not too forward now. But, Dustin – he is not a good man.”

“He – what are you doing here?” demanded Dustin, his forehead creased in a frown. "How did you even – did Mark bring you here?"

"He did," Christopher said, taking a tentative step forward. "We received a letter from Erica that worried both of us."

"You were worried about Mr Parker?" Dustin asked incredulously. "How so?"

"I was afraid he would –" Christopher floundered, abruptly realizing how absurd this must seem to Dustin. "I was afraid he would ruin you."

"And you came to protect my honour," said Dustin, a smile now starting to creep across his face. "Christopher, you _came_ for me. Even after – after everything we have said to each other.”

“Yes,” Christopher said, straightening his shoulders. “I did.”

Dustin’s eyes were bright and wide with happiness as he stared at Christopher. “Christopher,” he breathed in disbelief. “You would have duelled with him? To protect _me_?"

“How could I do otherwise?” Christopher took Dustin’s hands in his, barely gripping his fingers and hardly daring to breathe. Hope had crawled up into his chest and was curling around his heart. “Dustin, you have to know that I care for you, more deeply than you can possibly know.”

“Oh, thank God,” said Dustin, and he pulled Christopher into a deeply inappropriate kiss. Christopher was startled, but he felt a strong sense of _rightness_ the moment Dustin’s mouth met his. He wrapped his arms around Dustin’s waist and pulled him close, no longer caring one whit for propriety.

When they finally parted an eternity later, Dustin said breathlessly, "I had nearly lost hope that I would ever – and then now you are _here_."

"Even if I were angry with you, I could not let Parker use your trusting nature against you," said Christopher, a little stiffly. "You deserve better than that."

"Are you not angry with me, then?" Dustin asked. His hand had travelled to Christopher's waist, though he did not seem to have noticed. "At Randi's wedding, I – I said everything wrong. I would not blame you if you hated me forever."

"I could never hate you," Christopher said softly. He allowed himself to reach up and brush a lock of Dustin's auburn hair from his face. "I _was_ furious with you, but – I find I cannot be, anymore."

Dustin smiled and kissed him again, seemingly unable to help himself. Christopher flushed and gently pushed him back a step. Dustin looked at him, not quite frowning, but clearly questioning.

Christopher smiled reassuringly at Dustin, at the smooth line of his nose and the dark green-hazel of his eyes. “Dustin – I want you to court me. _Properly_ , so there are no misunderstandings this time.”

“Was I not before?” Dustin asked, confused. Christopher laughed and pressed his face into the side of Dustin’s neck.

“Not in the slightest,” he said, his voice muffled. “It is quite all right; I will teach you.”

Dustin put his arms around Christopher’s shoulders and said, “I would like that.”

*  *  *

Eduardo and Christina arrived late in the evening. Christopher, who had secluded himself in the salon with Dustin so they could talk at their leisure, was glad to see them – and gladder still to tell them both that it had all been resolved happily.

“We have reconciled,” he said, hardly able to contain his happiness. “We – it is just that I can be very stubborn.”

“We are well aware,” said Christina, but she smiled in reply, so Christopher thought that it was kindly meant.

“Does that mean you will be returning to Netherfield?” Eduardo asked Dustin.

“I hope so,” Dustin said. He had not released Christopher’s hand, even though Christopher had tried to impress upon him the inappropriateness of the gesture. “If you do not object, I would like to accompany you on your return journey.”

“We do not object in the slightest,” said Christina before Christopher could raise his concerns. “Oh, this is wonderful news!” She kissed their cheeks and left to find Erica.

Christopher watched Eduardo, who was looking around with a slightly confused look on his face. “He is not here,” Christopher said after a moment.

Eduardo jerked around, eyes wide. “I beg your pardon?”

“Mark went to be sure that Parker left the grounds. I believe he intends to write a rather savage letter to his associates in London to warn them against associating with him.” Christopher turned to look at Dustin. “That is what he said, yes?”

“Indeed.” Dustin squeezed Christopher’s hand lightly, and Christopher smiled at him.

“Oh,” said Eduardo, his face falling. “I – I had hoped to speak to him.” After a moment, he rallied and forced a smile. “Still, I am very happy for you both. I expect that you will be marrying soon?”

Dustin coughed and said, “If Christopher is amenable.”

Christopher felt himself turn red and he said, “Perhaps. If Dustin can persuade me.”

"I am sure I can,” Dustin murmured, low and intimate, and Christopher flushed deeper.

Eduardo laughed and said, “I will leave the two of you to talk. I think I will find Erica and see if she can find us something to eat. I am _famished_.”

They ate an impromptu supper around the dining table with the remaining Zuckerberg sisters – Randi and Brent had departed on their honeymoon – and the meal was much merrier than their previous meals at Pemberley. The conversation was loud and boisterous and they talked over each other in their haste to confer over the various crimes of Parker and the renewed affection between Christopher and Dustin. Christopher paid it little mind, only contributing when asked a direct question. He was more concerned with Dustin’s presence at his side.

“I think we should get married,” he said to Dustin in a low voice towards the end of supper. Dustin turned to him in surprise, eyes wide.

“You are – now?” he asked, stuttering over himself.

“No, of course not now,” said Christopher. “But once you are in Meryton. I realize it is fast,” he added hurriedly. “But – I have never – I care for you very deeply.” He felt himself turn red as he stumbled over himself, trying to find the right words to say.

“And I you,” Dustin said, though his forehead was creased in concern. “You are sure? You would not like to think on it? We spent so much time apart, and much of that time we were angry with each other.”

“And I loathed every moment of it,” Christopher said. “I thought so much about how I should have made myself more clear and how I should have tried to explain more to you. You were right to get angry.”

“So were you,” protested Dustin. “I said – such _horrible_ things.”

“Dustin,” said Christopher, laying his hand over Dustin’s. “It is natural for couples to have disagreements. We must simply promise each other that we will _talk_ instead of getting angry. I believe we can get along.”

“I am not going to marry you,” Dustin said firmly. “Not until we get through another few weeks without completely falling apart.”

Christopher started laughing, irrationally pleased by this piece of stubbornness. Dustin chuckled and leaned over to kiss Christopher’s temple.

Arielle threw a piece of bread at them and said, “No kissing!”

“Apologies, Arielle,” Dustin said with dignity.

“Arielle was in _love_ with Dustin when she was a child,” said Donna with all the dignity of an older sister. Arielle gasped, eyes wide, and Erica began to laugh, slumping forward to wipe her eyes. Christina looked as though she were barely holding herself in.

“I hope that we may still be friends,” Christopher said to Arielle, trying not to smile. “Dustin is indeed a most desirable gentlemen –”

“Oh, I hate all of you!” Arielle cried, though she dissolved into giggles a moment later. Dustin smiled at Christopher, his cheeks pinking.

“Most desirable?” he said in an undertone.

Christopher bit his lip and nodded. “In my eyes, at least,” he said, and Dustin’s smile grew even wider.

*  *  *

Christopher, to his great embarrassment, fell asleep in the carriage the next day, his head drooping onto Dustin’s shoulder. He awoke when the carriage went over a particularly large stone and hurriedly straightened up, blinking the sleep from his eyes. Eduardo looked as though he was trying very hard not to laugh.

Dustin pulled out a handkerchief that Christopher recognized instantly and used it to wipe Christopher’s face. “How hard did you ride to Pemberley?” he asked, sounding amused.

“We hardly stopped to rest. Neither of us wanted to.” Christopher settled back in his seat. “Mark was – he would have continued without rest, I think, if it were not for the horse. He is a good friend.”

“He is my oldest friend, and my dearest,” Dustin said quietly. “I know he has his...”

“Oddities?” suggested Christina.

Dustin laughed and said, “Yes, oddities. And he can be difficult to understand, but he has a good heart underneath it all.” He said this last while looking at Eduardo.

Eduardo coughed, looking distinctly uncomfortable. Christopher lay a hand on Dustin’s knee, silently imploring him not to press the matter. Dustin looked over at him and smiled, diverted.

They left Dustin at Netherfield. He ordered Christopher to come whenever he wanted, and the three of them continued on their way to their respective homes. Eduardo was looking more and more worried. Finally, he burst out, “I do not know what I shall tell my father.”

“Tell him that you are not marrying Cameron and that you do not care one whit for his opinion on the matter,” Christina said instantly.

“I cannot say that!” Eduardo yelped, looking scandalized. “He is my _father_!”

“Then you should have thought of that before you refused Cameron,” Christina said cruelly. “Eduardo, you know what you want. You have to take it. Look at Christopher.” She gestured towards him. “He didn’t stop to think; he jumped on a horse and rode to rescue Dustin.”

Christopher opened his mouth to protest, but she ignored him, barrelling on without waiting for a response. “You need to decide what you want, Eduardo, or you will never be happy,” she said definitively.

Eduardo slumped back against his seat, defeated. “You are quite right,” he said after a moment. “Of course you are.”

Christopher smiled Eduardo, hoping to reassure him. "I am sure you will find a way to satisfy yourself and your father. You are clever; you'll think of a solution."

Eduardo did not answer, but Christina seemed to have finished berating him. She settled back in her seat and smiled serenely while Eduardo stared pensively out the window, lost in a brown study.

*  *  *

Christopher took a horse to Netherfield the day after they returned to Meryton, even though he had told himself that he would wait at least two full days before visiting. Dustin greeted him by kissing his hand and pulling him inside.

“I was afraid you would change your mind,” Dustin said, smiling. “But – may I ask you something?”

“Certainly,” Christopher said, though he was slightly wary of what he might ask.

“You kept my handkerchief.” Dustin pulled it out of his pocket as if to illustrate his point. “Why?”

Christopher blushed. “I – it was comforting, somehow, to still have something of yours. To remind myself it was not a dream, I suppose.” He sighed and covered his face. “Oh, it was foolish.”

Dustin prised Christopher’s hands away and said, “No, not at all! When you dropped it, it gave me such hope. I think that if it had not been for that, I might have – well. It is not relevant any longer.”

Christopher decided not to press that topic and instead asked, “How have you been entertaining yourself in my absence? Have you read any other of the _many_ books you own?”

Dustin laughed and said, “You will need to recommend something to me. I have spent a great deal of time moping around Pemberley. I attempted to fish, but I had to let the poor creatures go once I had caught them. I could not even think of hunting. I walked a lot,” he added thoughtfully. “And I tried painting, but I have no true artistic eye.”

“You simply need practise,” Christopher said, though he had not seen Dustin’s work and therefore could not offer any real opinions. “And you must show me the grounds here sometime – perhaps tomorrow.”

“I would like that,” Dustin said warmly. “For now, will you show me the books you love the best? I am sure that if anyone could entice me to read more, it would be you.”

“You should have said something sooner,” Christopher said. “Though you will have to stop me from overburdening you.”

Christopher ended up reading aloud to Dustin, who listened raptly even when Christopher’s voice grew hoarse. “His subjects received him with joy; he married Beauty, and lived with her many years; and their happiness, as it was founded on virtue, was complete.” He closed the book and smiled at Dustin. “A pretty tale.”

“I think it very odd that he asked her to marry him every night,” Dustin said frankly. “Thought the story of loving despite appearances is a good one indeed.”

“There are many versions of the story,” Christopher said. “Of most fairytales, actually. I had thought that perhaps one day I could write some of them down; but that is fanciful work for a historian.”

“It is the history of storytelling,” said Dustin. “And these are stories that are passed down amongst ordinary people. Is that not what you love to write about?”

Christopher had to concede that Dustin was right in that regard. “True,” he said. “Perhaps once I finish the history of Meryton, I will begin my research.”

Dustin smiled at him and asked, “When do you think it will be finished?” and they lost several more hours to conversation. By the time Christopher grew aware of the hour, it was dark outside, and he was famished.

“Stay for dinner,” Dustin said, and so he did, spending another few hours talking to Dustin about his childhood in Brixton and how he had met Mark at school. He rode home exhausted, but deliriously happy. If he had had any lingering doubts about Dustin, they had been banished.

It rained solidly for nearly a week, so Christopher was unable to visit Dustin. When he could finally return to Netherfield, he was so eager to see Dustin that he did not even protest the chaste kiss Dustin pressed to his mouth.

"The weather is conspiring against us," Dustin said gloomily, looking up at the still grey sky. "I have missed your company."

"And I yours," Christopher agreed.

"I read the remainder of the book you picked out for me," Dustin said, beckoning Christopher inside, "and I enjoyed it greatly! Do you have another recommendation?"

Naturally, Christopher did have a great many recommendations, and he supplied them eagerly. The conversation occupied him for the remainder of the day until Dustin said suddenly, "Oh!" and dropped to one knee in front of Christopher.

"Dustin!" exclaimed Christopher, started. "What are you doing?"

"I am going to propose to you," Dustin said with a smile. "Is that acceptable?"

"In the corridor?" Christopher asked in disbelief. Then Dustin took his hand and he forgot his protests.

"Christopher Hughes," he said, very seriously, "I would like to marry you. Will you?”

"Of course I will," Christopher said.

So they spent the evening as a newly engaged couple, never straying more than a foot away from each other. It was only once Christopher had returned home to begin penning word of the news to his friends that he realized the real gravity of the situation – they would have to plan a wedding.

"Do you have any idea what we will do?" he asked Dustin, panicked. "I do not want a grand affair and it should be soon, before the weather turns foul, but I have never planned such an event!"

Dustin smiled and reached out to calm him. "I have written to Erica, I am sure she will be glad to take on the responsibility."

Christopher sagged weakly, reassured. "If you had not offered that solution, I would have suggested that we simply elope," he admitted, and Dustin burst into joyful laughter before pulling Christopher into a giddy embrace.

*  *  *

Eduardo put off writing to his father until almost a week after his return to Meryton. Finally, he admitted to himself that he was being a coward, and he sat down to write. He had no idea what to say to him; he knew that he had done an inexcusable thing in refusing Cameron, but when he tried to imagine a lifetime married to Cameron, he was unable to call up an image.

_Dear Father,_

_I apologize for not writing sooner, but a series of unexpected events have delayed the writing of this letter. I came to London briefly with the intention of becoming engaged to Cameron Winklevoss, as has been your great hope. However, circumstances have conspired against us and I do not believe we will be marrying._

He stopped and stared at what he had written. Then, slowly, he added:

_I have, to my great surprise, entered into an informal agreement with Mark Zuckerberg. He is currently at his home in Pemberley, but he will be returning to Meryton to see his friend Dustin Moskovitz, who is to marry Christopher Hughes in about a month’s time. It is a hurried affair; but they have had a great deal of difficulty getting to the point of being engaged._

_I hope that you are well and that you are not too upset by this news._

_Your son,  
Eduardo_

He sealed the letter in an envelope before he could rethink its contents and addressed to his father’s residence in London. It was, without a doubt, the most rebellious thing he had done in his life – and yet he felt no apprehension at all, only a profound sense of relief.

He sent it off and thought no more of it. He received no response from his father during the next week, but to his great surprise, he received a letter from Mark. When he saw whom the letter was from, Eduardo felt strangely light-headed, and he had to sit down before he could read it. He opened it carefully and read,

_Dear Eduardo,_

_Dustin tells me that he and Christopher have finally made plans to marry. I suppose it has not been that long, but it feels as though they have been courting for years. Arielle is particularly excited to attend a wedding so soon after Randi’s, and Erica will be going to Netherfield soon so that she can begin planning for them. She is brooking no arguments from either of them._

_I will not be coming to Meryton until the wedding; I have to take care of some affairs here at Pemberley, but I am looking forward to seeing you again. I have found a book in the library that I think you will enjoy reading._

_Mark_

Eduardo finished reading and discovered that he was smiling. He folded the letter up and put it in his breast pocket with shaking hands before going to write a response. He wished that he could speak to Mark in person; he wanted to see if he had grown any more skilled at identifying the emotions on Mark’s normally impassive face.

It took him nearly two days to pen a response that he did not immediately want to rip to pieces. He refused to read it over once he was finished and he mailed it off, hoping that he did not make a fool of himself.

_Dear Mark,_

_Yes, I have heard! I am very happy for them and they seem to delight in each others’ presence. I think Christopher will welcome Erica’s help. The wedding is so hurried that he has had no time to plan anything at all, and Dustin thinks they should just elope. I am looking forward to it, though; Christopher deserves his happiness and Dustin makes him smile._

_Christopher has received the first proof of his book; I think he is ready to publish, or nearly – I am sure there is a great deal of editing that he must go through, but he has insisted that Dustin read it before he changes anything._

_I wish you could be here sooner; I never had the opportunity to thank you for listening to me about Mr Parker or for what you did for Christopher. It must have been difficult for you to overcome your previously held beliefs and I appreciate the effort._

_What is the book?_

_Eduardo_

Erica arrived in Meryton a day after Mark’s letter. She seemed to know all about it, but flatly refused to enlighten Eduardo regarding the book that Mark had found for him.

“It is his surprise for you,” she said obstinately when Eduardo badgered her for information. “He made me promise not to breathe a word.”

“And he is very frightening,” agreed Eduardo morosely. “I suppose I will not be able to sway you in any way.”

“No,” agreed Erica. “You are not as persuasive as Mark.”

It turned out that Mark had chosen to be stubborn about keeping his surprise a secret. The next letter from Mark was terse and sounded much more like him.

_Eduardo,_

_I trusted your judgment. It turned out to be the correct choice. Previously, I had been wary of believing you because you seemed so determined to prove me wrong about everything. I suppose that sometimes I must yield to the superior understanding and intelligence of others._

_You will have to wait until I give it to you. Can you wait one week, or is the anticipation too much to bear?_

_Mark_

Eduardo bit his lip to stop himself from laughing aloud. He set the note alongside Mark’s original letter and smoothed them out. Seeing them side by side reminded him that he still had not had received a response from his father. For the first time in weeks, he felt a shiver of apprehension go down his spine. It was unusual for his father to remain silent for so long. Eduardo had been sure he would get an angry letter within days of his original missive. The lack of communication was ominous.

He put it out of his mind. The wedding was fast approaching and Christopher was going mad with the last minute plans. He was beginning to mutter about Gretna Green, though Erica managed to persuade him not to run off with Dustin in tow. When Eduardo came by to visit, he was immediately shepherded over towards Dustin, who had chosen to stay clear of the wedding planning.

“I am staying clear of the madness,” Dustin said. “Would you like a drink?”

“I am fine.” Eduardo hesitated, then asked, “What do you know of Mark?”

“What do you mean by that?” asked Dustin, raising his eyebrows. “I know quite a lot about Mark; we have been friends for years. What in particular do you want to know?”

“He – he asked me to marry him, before,” Eduardo said. "In London."

Dustin laughed and said, “Yes, I know he did. And you refused him, which I must admit is completely rational. Though I believe you have come to an understanding?”

“He tells me he loves me,” Eduardo said, turning red at telling such an intimate detail to Dustin. “I – I believe that I care for him too. Yet I find it difficult to reconcile my affection for him with –” He broke off, unsure of how to phrase his thoughts.

“With your previous feelings for one another?” said Dustin knowingly. “I think you are trying too hard to rationalize emotions. I have always thought that you and Mark were uniquely suited. You are the only person I have met who can contend with his sharp wit, and he clearly challenges you. Look at you now; asking advice when I had always thought you too proud to do so.”

“Too proud?” asked Eduardo in surprise.

Dustin smiled sheepishly. “It was simply my first impression.” He rose to his feet and paced around the room, looking thoughtful. “Mark is...not easily given to affection. He has few friends, as you well know, and I have never known him to claim love for anyone in the past.”

Eduardo’s stomach swooped at that. He himself could not claim having ever been in love before; he liked Cameron well enough, and he had had suitors in the past, but none of them had aroused more than friendly affection. Mark, on the other hand, was a puzzle that Eduardo longed to solve. He doubted he ever would, and the thought of spending a lifetime trying was – exhilarating.

“Thank you for your help,” he said quietly. “I believe you have helped me make up my mind.”

“I am glad to hear it,” Dustin said, and he smiled brightly. “He will be arriving tomorrow; you must come by and tell him that yourself.”

Eduardo felt his stomach drop at that. He longed to see Mark again, but he suddenly feared that Mark would have inexplicably changed his mind, or that something would go hideously wrong. Nevertheless, he went home determined to tell Mark that he would marry him the moment he arrived at Netherfield.

His happiness was short-lived. Lord Saverin arrived at Eduardo’s residence without warning early the next morning and let himself into Eduardo’s study without so much as asking to be allowed in. “Eduardo,” he rapped out sharply, stalking across the room. “Enough of this nonsense. I do not know what possessed you to enter into agreement with Mr Zuckerberg, but I have finally convinced Cameron that it was nothing more than a misunderstanding and that you will be happy to marry him.”

Eduardo, who had leapt to his feet at the sound of his father’s voice, backed up against his desk and said in a small voice, “There was no misunderstanding.”

But Lord Saverin was not paying attention to him. He had turned back towards the door and was now calling, “Cameron, come inside, it is quite all right.”

Cameron came inside, looking uncomfortable. He smiled awkwardly at Eduardo and said, “You look well.”

Eduardo knew very well that this was a lie, as he no doubt looked stunned, but he accepted the compliment for what it was and said, “As do you.”

“Now, come,” said Lord Saverin impatiently. “Eduardo, will you marry Cameron?”

Eduardo took a deep breath and said, very firmly, “No.”

Cameron looked away; Lord Saverin’s head whipped around, and he stared at Eduardo in astonishment. “No?”

“No,” Eduardo said, stronger now. “It is nothing against you,” he added for Cameron, “but – I intend to marry Mark Zuckerberg, Father. He has made me an offer and I think he is a perfectly respectable option. He has more than enough money to keep me and you in comfort for our lives and – I love him.”

“You love him?” Lord Saverin asked in astonishment. “Do not be ridiculous, Eduardo; restoring the family name is far more important than –”

“Restoring the family name?” demanded Eduardo. “And what, exactly, is so terrible about Mark Zuckerberg? He may be of lower birth than you and I, but our family is in disgrace and has little money! Surely he is as good an option as Cameron.”

“I think that Mark is a perfectly sound option for Eduardo,” put in Cameron.

“He is certainly intelligent enough,” said Lord Saverin. “But –”

“I am marrying him, Father!” burst out Eduardo. “I will choose someone else if Mark rescinds his offer, but if he does not reject me before the wedding in two days’ time, then I _will marry him._ ”

Lord Saverin stared at Mark, then said, “And he is arriving today?”

“Yes,” Eduardo said, putting his chin up.

“Very well. I suppose there are rooms for Cameron and his brother here?” He looked around at the house with mild disdain. “I never understood why you wished to keep this place. It is hardly fashionable.”

“It is the house I grew up in,” Eduardo said shortly. “There are plenty of spare rooms.”

“Excellent. I must go take care of some business.” Lord Saverin stalked from the room, looking furious. Eduardo sagged back against his desk, feeling as though all the strength had left him.

“Eduardo,” Cameron said softly, “I – am so sorry. I did not ask him to do this.”

“I know,” Eduardo said heavily. “Your brother is here as well?”

“He is in your parlour, I believe,” Cameron said. “He wished to see your friend Christina again.”

Eduardo managed to pull up a smile for that. “Ah. She will be pleased, I think. He does not mind that she is not entirely respectable?”

“I think that would only make his interest more pronounced,” Cameron said wryly. The two of them left the study so Eduardo could show the brothers to their rooms. “You are well?”

“I am,” said Eduardo. “I am so sorry he dragged you down for this – you must come to the wedding to make the visit worth the travel time. Christina will be there, so Tyler will have someone to entertain him.”

Cameron laughed, brightening. “That sounds lovely. We will be delighted to attend.”

Once the Winklevosses had settled themselves upstairs, Eduardo went to the parlour. He was sitting on the couch when his father returned. He got to his feet, waiting for him to speak.

“I believe I have taken care of matters,” Lord Saverin said in a satisfied manner. “You are free to marry Cameron.”

Eduardo went white and he clutched at the back of the sofa. “What do you mean by that?”

“I have spoken with Mr Zuckerberg and made it very clear that you were meant for greater things,” Lord Saverin said. “He said he understood and that you were not held to any agreement. So you are not bound to him.”

“He said – he said he understood?” Eduardo asked faintly.

Lord Saverin clenched his jaw for a moment before forcing a smile. “Yes. I believe he understands duty better than you.”

“I will wait to hear it from his own lips,” Eduardo snapped, the colour rushing back to his cheeks. “And you had _no right_ to do that, Father! I understand that you want the best for me, but Cameron does not object to the change.”

“No, indeed,” Cameron said. “I would like Eduardo to be happy.”

Lord Saverin pressed his mouth into a thin line and did not say anything further, but a sense of apprehension settled over Eduardo like a cloak. With an unpleasant lurch of his stomach, he realized that he would have to wait until the wedding to speak to Mark. He could not leave his guests alone; he would just have to hope that Mark did not make any decisions between now and then.

*  *  *

Christopher awoke on the day of his wedding feeling refreshed and eager. The frantic month of preparation had finally come to fruition. He rose from bed and went downstairs to find a letter from Dustin sitting on his table.

_Dearest Christopher,_

_It is the morning of our wedding and I am already elated at the thought of joining together with you for eternity. I had given up hope that we would ever arrive at this point. You must know by now how much I love you; but I feel that it can never be said too often or too fervently. I adore you, Christopher Hughes, with every fibre of my being._

_I have finally finished your manuscript and it is a masterpiece. When it is published, we will house it in a place of pride so that everyone may know that my husband is a brilliant writer. What shall you write next? I will travel with you to wherever your research may take you, and I may even attempt to read more educational works._

_Love,  
Dustin_

Christopher momentarily felt as though he might weep with happiness, but he managed to hold himself together. He kissed the parchment and smiled, his heart near to bursting in his chest.

He rode to Pemberley and was immediately accosted by Erica, who took him to be bathed and dressed in his wedding attire. She was meticulous, fidgeting every strand of hair into place and straightening his waistcoat five times until she was convinced it was perfect.

“You look extraordinarily handsome,” she said once she had finished. “Dustin will not know what to do with himself.”

Christopher blushed, remembering that they had the wedding night ahead of them. He had been thinking about it idly for the past weeks with a sense of happy anticipation, but it loomed closer now. He knew some people had difficulty during their first night together, but he thought that it would be easy with Dustin.

He caught the knowing look on Erica’s face and flushed deeper still. “I am – so happy,” he confided.

“I know,” she said, and she took him out to where the carriage waited so he could ride to his wedding.

Christopher had never been one of those people who had thought about his wedding for half his life. He had never supposed that he _would_ be lucky enough to be married, let alone to someone he was as fond of as he was of Dustin. When he came to stand at the front of the church with Dustin, he felt so happy that he was sure that something would go wrong. But as he put his hands in Dustin’s and recited his vows, no bolt came down from the heavens and even Mark and Eduardo seemed to be behaving themselves.

When the minister said, “I now pronounce you married,” Dustin gave Christopher a huge smile and then kissed him hard and with perhaps a bit more enthusiasm than was proper. Christopher kissed him back, trying to memorize every detail of the moment, from the wet press of Dustin’s lips to the feeling of Dustin’s waistcoat under his fingers. When they pulled back, Dustin cradled Christopher’s head in his hands and whispered, “I love you.”

“I love you too,” said Christopher softly. He pressed his forehead and closed his eyes against the urge to cry happy tears.

*  *  *

On the morning of Christopher’s wedding, Eduardo bade his father an icy good morning before riding ahead of him to the church with Tyler and Cameron. Once at the church, Tyler made a beeline for Christina, who looked delighted to see him. Cameron introduced himself to Erica, who looked startled to be meeting someone new, but she smiled back at him and said, “You are most welcome. Any friend of Eduardo’s is a friend of ours.”

Eduardo found himself seated next to Mark in one of the pews of the church. Mark looked at him for a long moment and then said, “Hello.”

“Mark,” Eduardo said, relieved that he was not being ignored. “I – my father – you have to know, I did not –”

“I know,” Mark said softly. “You would not be so cowardly.”

“Mark, I –” Eduard fell silent abruptly, seeing that the wedding party had arrived. He turned to face front once more, resisting the urge to look over to Mark.

Mark’s hand slipped into his halfway during the ceremony, and Eduardo squeezed unconsciously. He looked over at Mark and saw that he was smiling. Eduardo bit his lip, love overwhelming him for a moment, then turned back to watch Christopher and Dustin pledge to love each other forevermore.

Eduardo watched the smile on Christopher’s face. Christopher had always been handsome, but such pure, unadulterated happiness made him indescribably beautiful. When Christopher repeated his vows, only tripping over them a little, Eduardo squeezed Mark’s hand helplessly.

The moment the wedding was finished, Mark said, “Come, I have something to show you,” and they returned to Netherfield at top speed to arrive ahead of the guests.

“What is it?” Eduardo asked when they had arrived.

“I never gave you your gift,” Mark explained, leading Eduardo to the library. “I found it amongst the volumes at Pemberley and I thought of you.”

“What book?” asked Eduardo impatiently. Mark waved his hand irritably and released Eduardo so that he could pick up the volume in question.

He held it out reverentially, smiling again. He looked so handsome when he smiled, Eduardo thought wildly as he took his gift from Mark's hands. After a moment, he looked down and saw that the cover read, _The Tempest_ in embossed gold lettering.

“It is a rather old edition,” Mark explained as Eduardo gaped in astonishment. “I know it is not _precisely_ about weather, but I thought you might –”

“Mark,” breathed Eduardo, opening up the first page. “This is – exquisite. You cannot give it to me! It is far too valuable.”

“I will give it to you if I want to,” Mark said obstinately. “Besides, if – if we are to be married, then what is mine is yours.”

“If we are to be married?” Eduardo asked, looking up sharply.

Mark suddenly looked unsure. “That is – if you will have me.”

“You have not properly asked me,” Eduardo reminded him, a smile starting to stretch across his face.

“Oh!” said Mark. “That is easily remedied.” He gently tugged the book from Eduardo’s grasp and set it aside. After a moment, he took Eduardo's hands in his. “Eduardo Saverin, I would be greatly honoured if you would be my husband.”

Eduardo looked at him, his blue eyes and his curly hair and his face, the face he had once thought to be so expressionless, now open and loving. “I would be delighted to be your husband,” he said softly.

Mark’s face split into a wide smile. He rose up on his toes to kiss Eduardo, pushing him back against the bookshelves with the force of his affection. Eduardo wrapped his arms around Mark’s waist, not giving one whit for propriety, and kissed him back as whole-heartedly as he knew how.

“And I love you,” Eduardo said when Mark had pulled back to breathe. “I have not said it yet, and you should know. I am not sure when it happened, but you won me over and I would follow you to the ends of the earth if I had to.”

“I would brave your father for you,” Mark said, smirking, and Eduardo had to kiss him again.

“Would you, though?” he asked when they pulled apart. He knew his father was somewhere amongst the revellers that were descending upon Netherfield – he could hardly miss a social event – and though his stomach roiled at the thought of defying him so openly, he also could not stand the thought of pretending to be perfectly obedient.

“I already did,” said Mark. “When he came to tell me that you were meant for something ‘better’ – I will only leave when you tell me to, Eduardo.”

“Mark,” sighed Eduardo, pressing his forehead to Mark’s. “You are – thank you. Thank you for not leaving.”

“We should find your father,” Mark said after a long, blissful moment. Eduardo sighed, not wanting to leave that moment behind, but he went with Mark to find his father.

Lord Saverin was in the ballroom, having a discussion with an older gentleman Eduardo thought might be from Dustin’s family. When he saw Eduardo and Mark approaching together, he narrowed his eyes.

“I see neither of you have heeded my requests,” he said coolly.

“Your demands,” corrected Mark. “Frankly, Lord Saverin, I am more than a match for Eduardo. I _earned_ my money through hard work rather than simply inheriting it and being intelligent enough not to squander it away on gambling and liquor. If that makes me unworthy, then so be it; but it is his decision to make.”

Lord Saverin stared at them for a moment. Then, abruptly, he began to smile.

“Bravo, Mr Zuckerberg,” he said with only a trace of sarcasm in his voice. “Very well said. I will take that into account.”

Eduardo’s mouth dropped open in surprise. Lord Saverin did not seem to notice, but Mark took Eduardo’s hand and said, “I suppose this means I am free to court you openly.”

“Yes,” Eduardo said faintly. “I suppose so.” He turned to face Mark and smiled suddenly. "I hope you have learned a little about romance since we last spoke of it."

"I have asked your father permission," Mark said. "Surely that is a start."

Lord Saverin chuckled, reminding them that he was still standing there. "Mr Zuckerberg, I have not actually granted it."

"Is that a requirement?" asked Mark. "I thought the sentiment of asking was enough."

Eduardo started to laugh. "I – Mark, you cannot – Father, he did not mean that –" He tried to regain his composure, but dissolved into laughter once more at the mildly affronted look on Mark's face.

When he finally recovered himself, he found that his father was observing him with a fond expression on his face. "It has been a long time since I have seen you so happy," he observed. "I thought – it seemed to me that you and Cameron would be well-matched, and indeed it was a dear wish to see you with him. But I suppose that if Mr Zuckerberg has captured your heart –" He gave Mark a small but gracious bow. "You have my permission to seek my son's hand."

"Father," Eduardo said, startled. "I – are you sure?"

His father raised his eyebrows. "Would you like me to reconsider?"

"No!" Eduardo said. "I am – surprised, that is all."

Lord Saverin smiled stiffly. "I wish you both well," he said with a nod. Then he turned and disappeared into the crowd, leaving Eduardo feeling thunderstruck.

After a moment, Mark said, "You should not have worried so."

Eduardo tried to glare at him, but it was half-hearted at best. "I am – I am very glad he has approved of you," he said slowly. "But this does not mean I will marry you," he added. "Do you think you are up to the challenge of convincing me?"

"I thought I had already won that battle," remarked Mark, raising his eyebrows and smirking. "Or did you not accept my proposal not a quarter of an hour ago?"

"It will have to be an ongoing effort," Eduardo told him with a smile. "Will you be able to do that? Or is it too difficult?"

"I believe I can be persuaded to try," Mark said with a smile. "And will you, in turn, woo me every day?"

"Certainly," Eduardo said, and he pulled Mark back down the halls to one of Netherfield's darker and more deserted corners.

*  *  *

The last guests did not leave Netherfield until late in the evening. Christopher was exhausted, his limbs drooping with fatigue, but when Dustin came up behind him, wrapping his arms around his waist and kissing his neck, he managed to recall some energy.

“Dustin,” he sighed, tilting his head to provide Dustin with better access to his skin. “We should at least go upstairs.”

“To our bedroom,” Dustin said with relish. “Yes.” He nuzzled Christopher’s cheek affectionately, then released him. “I have thought of this more times than I perhaps should have,” he confessed with a small smile.

“I –” Christopher started, blushing, and Dustin laughed.

“You have thought of it too,” he accused, taking Christopher’s hands and pulling him towards the stairs.

“Of course,” Christopher said, embarrassed. “Not that I ever – thought it would happen!”

“Oh, Christopher,” sighed Dustin happily. “You are such a pessimist.”

“Not in the slightest!” he protested. “I do believe in a great many things.”

“Mm.” Dustin led Christopher down the hall to the bedroom. “And I believed that one day we would be together, though I imagined a much smoother path than the one we have taken.”

"The rough patches make the destination all the more welcome,” said Christopher. He sat on the edge of Dustin’s – their – bed and smiled up at them. "Our difficulties will make our life together much more rewarding."

“Then I suppose Mark and Eduardo’s marriage shall be very _rewarding_ indeed,” said Dustin with a leer.

“Dustin!” Christopher said, scandalized, but he smiled despite himself. “Come here and stop talking.”

“I yield to your demands, Mr Hughes,” Dustin said with a bow. “Or will you go by Mr Moskovitz?”

“I think in my scholarly pursuits I shall be Mr Hughes, but to you I am more than happy to be Mr Moskovitz,” replied Christopher.

“Or indeed, Christopher the Divine,” Dustin teased, coming to stand in front of him.

Christopher shook his head, laughing. “Just Christopher, my love.”

“My love,” said Dustin thoughtfully. “I like that one.”

“My love,” Christopher repeated softly, reaching up a hand to cup Dustin’s cheek, and then he pulled Dustin down to him.

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [[podfic] The Secret Life of Daydreams](https://archiveofourown.org/works/380062) by [read by lunchee (lunchee)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/lunchee/pseuds/read%20by%20lunchee)




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